


Take Me Home (The Long Haul)

by caswella



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, M/M, Road Trip, Sex, reference to suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswella/pseuds/caswella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hajime has just been offered a job in a startup company in LA. Instead of doing the sensible thing and flying down, he decides to drive. He has three weeks to go from Vancouver to Los Angeles; more than enough time. It should be no problem, but along the way he meets Tooru, who is most definitely a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Home (The Long Haul)

 

He placed his suitcase in the back of the jeep and frowned at the squeak the trunk gave when he slammed it closed. He hoped his '95 Wrangler would be able to make the trek from Vancouver to LA without falling apart.

“Do you have everything?”

His mother stood on the curve of the sidewalk - a shawl wrapped around her slender shoulders. He tried not to let it show on his face that he was sad to leave.

“Yes, Mom. I have everything.”

The years leading here were draining. He recalled the sleepless nights and hair pulling frustration from the early classes and  lackluster professors.  It was the support from his kind and loving mother that pushed him through the tough years. His eyes became glassy with unshed tears but he choked them down.

“You make sure you call me when you can, okay? And don't be afraid to visit when you have the time.”

“I'll try my best Mom.”

“And make sure you keep the gas tank full.”

“Of course, Mom.”

“And don't get into trouble with the cops down in the States.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And don't forget that I love you.”

Hajime fumbled his way into the driver's seat and turned back to his mother.  Her misted eyes caused that  feeling he had choked down before to return with vengeance.

“I'll never forget that.”

Now she was tearing up; cheeks turning red and lip quivering. He could feel his tears spill over; his eyes stung from the salt and the heat.

'Maybe this is a bad idea, maybe I should stay.' Hajime moved into his mother's arms thinking how weak she was and how lonely she would be with nobody around.

“God, you've lived on your own for three years now Hajime! Why are we crying like this?”

He moved away from his mother and looked her in her tear stained face.

“This is different. I won't be a skytrain ride away. I won't be able to come over to fix the sink or change the lights in the living room or help you paint the kitchen for the hundredth time.”

His internal panic set in. No more Sunday brunches, Thanksgivings or Christmas' spent in each others company. He had always lived in Vancouver. And now if he wanted to see his mother again he would either have to spend the money to fly back, or do the 12 hundred mile drive again.

“I know. Now I can get my cute neighbour to do it instead,” She laughed while wiping away a few stray tears. Hajime didn't know how he should feel about Mr Mann coming into his mother's small house to do all the things he used to do.

“Oh get that sour look off your face.”

“Okay, okay.”

Their conversation lulled; they were only delaying the inevitable.

“You better get going before traffic gets too bad.” She sniffled again.

He nodded and gave his mother one more crushing hug before he finally got in his jeep. When he put the keys into the ignition the radio came to life, softly speaking of the lovely weather to come and how the roads were clear of any and all accidents.

“I'll call you as soon as I stop in Seattle.”

“Okay. Have a safe trip.”

With that his small mother took a step away from the cars window, ready to let him go. Hajime smiled, waved, and pretended to be ready too. He turned into the road and tried his best not to stare at his Mom in the rear-view mirror.

-

The drive in wasn't bad. He had made it in three hours and was in the city before noon even; hopefully the rest of the trip would follow in a timely fashion.

Seattle had a lot of hills that Hajime was not prepared for. He somewhat felt claustrophobic, despite the similarities of the place where he grew up and here. Maybe it was because it was unfamiliar. Instead of knowing which cross street was which he kept having to look at his GPS to tell him where he was. With every downward glance he kept missing the world pass by, the gargantuan buildings that would have made him feel at home if he bothered to simply look.

The sun shone brightly and the radio lulled to some poppy, catchy tune drifting through the air. At the first opportunity, he would park his car and get some coffee, if he wasn’t fucking broke first. 18 dollars and hour, fucking christ.

“Which of the million Starbucks should I choose?” He wondered aloud.  He spotted no less than four on the same block.

He picked one at random, waiting for a break in the traffic to parallel park on the side of the road before getting out and walking through the door. He glanced around the quiet Starbucks and wondered if the other three looked like this one.

“Can I get anything started for you today?” The woman behind the counter gave him a small smile, apron covered in stains. Her hair was a mess from working but her fly aways didn’t seem to bother her.

Hajime looked down from where he was glaring at the menu. It was hot out and his cars shocks were not the best so maybe not a scalding hot coffee.

“Yeah-”

Before he could finish telling the barista his desire to have a green tea frappuccino with no whip a man walked in front of him and smiled brightly at the girl working the counter.

“One iced americano, two extra pumps of vanilla please.”

The short blond behind the cash register blushed and Hajime tried his best not to become a fathomless form of rage.

The man walked off with his drink and when Hajime got his own he stormed out of the place - trying but failing to look menacing while sipping his frappuccino. He quickly texted his mother that everything was okay; thinking about the extra charges his Canadian phone would be impairing as he got into his car. When he turned the keys into the ignition, he tapped on the GPS.

Hopefully, he would have a better stop in Portland.

-

He had a couple of friends in University who had gone to Portland. They had called it the Hipster Capital of the World. He was looking forward to the experience.

By the time he arrived in Portland, he was sore enough to consider staying in the city for the night. He was looking forward to going to Powell’s, a bookstore famous for it’s size and collections of rare and first edition books. He turned down Burnside Street and tried to find parking. After a stressful ten minutes he was able to find an empty meter maid and parked.

When he walked through the heavy glass doors of Powell’s a buxom older woman handed him a map to navigate the gargantuan store. Hajime gratefully accepted the pamphlet, not wanting to get lost in their labyrinth of literature. He perused a random section and ended up in Science Fiction. Hajime let his fingers trail along the old worn spines; gold and silver embossed lettering reflected the afternoon light coming through the windows.

He liked the atmosphere that the store gave off - it felt comforting in the most humbling of ways. It wasn't exactly quiet, but the soft music and the rustling of paper being flipped kept the bookstore in a nice environment, as opposed to a Chapters or an Indigo book store. There was a distinct lack of screaming children, for one thing, and a disparagingly lack of mothers discreetly trying to buy Fifty Shades of Grey. Every book seemed to have eyes, and with every slight noise he made there was a fear that the books would speak up and tell him to hush, much like any high school librarian.

He looked down at where he was on the map, eyes glancing at all the other colourfully named rooms. Currently, he had somehow wandered up the flights of stairs to the Pearl room without noticing. Lost beyond belief and just as he was about to give up, an associate appeared beside him; his eyes hidden behind black thick rimmed glasses - a style that he was starting to notice was worn by nearly every person he had seen. His name tag read 'Dexter' and Hajime's first thought was 'Poindexter.'

The sheer force of Dexter’s grin was enough to make his glasses dance on his cheekbones. “Can I help you with anything, sir?”

“Yeah, could you point me in the direction of the Rare Book Room?”

Dexter pointed somewhere to the left and Hajime followed his vague directions, grumbling to himself for not requesting a clearer route. Eventually he found the room; the ambient lighting and expensive collections protected by a wooden and stained glass door. He gaped at the prices and tried not to shit himself at all the zeroes that came along with 'Dante's Divine Comedy.' He had read those in high school, he didn't need them in his own pathetic collection. Just the proximity of them on the same crudely made bookshelf would probably set his other books aflame.

And God, that was a scary thought. He had an entire apartment to set up as soon as he got to LA, not just a shelf that he had made in woodwork back in Grade 11. There was a TV stand to set up, a bed frame to assemble, and slew of furniture to rearrange. And he would be doing it alone, twelve hundred miles between what was home and what was unknown. He scrubbed a hand over his face just thinking of all his things in boxes at the condo his work gave him. His life, in boxes.

Continuing on and away from those depressing thoughts he skimmed some more rare books, gawking at the price tags of some novels that he deemed to be too high brow and pretentious. Tess of the d'Urbervilles? Way too many zeroes.

Hajime was becoming irritated at the ridiculous notion of buying any of these books. What made him think that he could?

With regret, he left the room and the the worn leather backed classics mocking his lower class upbringing.

He could always afford coffee, he thought. Coffee was unbiased and wouldn't judge him for where he came from.

He went back to the front of the store, feeling bad about never having bought anything; he probably looked like a thief. At the last second he grabbed a single Penguin classic from a recommended reading shelf and laughed when the green LED till lights told him that his purchase of 'Dante's Inferno' was $8.49.

He smirked at the cover and hoped  that maybe, if he reads it again, it will put him to sleep like it did back in high school.

With the book tucked underneath his arm and the receipt placed in the front page, Hajime went to the connected coffee shop. The prices were outrageous, but he guessed if people thought themselves important by drinking a six dollar coffee then that was their prerogative.

Just as he was about to reach the front, someone budged in front of him. He could feel his face going red from confusion and anger. He bit his tongue to keep himself from tearing into the man in front of him and scowled back of his head. Twice in the same day.

“One iced americano please!

Wait! The perfectly quaffed hair. The mile long legs. The drink order.

It was the same asshole from Seattle. The same goddamn prick.

Hajime looked toward the ceiling, hands clenched and steaming. He waited until the man was leaving, coffee drink in hand and the ice clinking inside its plastic container as he walked out the door.  When he walked out and his back was turned Hajime flipped the bird to the taller man.

“Could I take your order, sir?”

He turned back to the girl at the counter, face redder now from embarrassment instead of righteous fury.

There was little else he wanted now that he was at the counter. Too embedded in his simmering hatred for the smug man with the iced americano that the first thing out of his mouth was: “Iced americano, please.”

Inwardly, he cursed himself for his lack of conviction.

The girl working the front winked at him and gave him a beaming smile.

“Coming right up.”

Waiting for his drink, he decided to open up his latest purchase, trying to calm himself with Dante's journey into the underworld.

“Here's your drink, and your receipt.”

“Oh, no I don't need-”

“I insist sir.”

She walked away to the next patron in line, a coy smile on her face. Hajime narrowed his eyes in confusion before he looked down at the thin receipt.

On the paper, ten digits.

In his head, fireworks. A drum line went off. For a moment it felt like the Fourth of July, but he was the only one celebrating.

The girl in the beige apron and shapely black leggings kept at her work; she snuck another glance at him while she waited for a debit payment to clear. Her face was framed by a short, black, bob cut and bright blue eyes. When she winked again Hajime let himself straighten, blush, and quickly walk out with the receipt in his hand in a vice grip to make sure it was real and not some apparition.

Ten numbers, an address, and a time.

-

Hajime had been waiting for over an hour; waiting for the hot hipster girl at this uncomfortable bar.

The irony did not go unnoticed by him, he was just too busy being an awkward mix of irritated and embarrassed. Dante's Inferno was a burlesque and cabaret.

Hajime didn't know that when he walked in and was already drinking when a scantily clad girl walked into one of the hanging metal platforms, and started to dance, hips rotating and gyrating to the rhythm.

He downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. While a bartender filled up his glass again he wiped at his brow. He took another sip to cool himself off. 

He had not been expecting that.

Someone tapped on his shoulder, and when Hajime turned around he almost spit out his drink.

“Hey there! Want to have some fun? We need a stranger to join our scavenger hunt.”

The asshole from the Seattle Starbucks.

The asshole that had budged in front of him. The asshole with the smile that said he didn't care that he was rude.

“You're that fucking prick from Starbucks!”

“I have no idea what you mean! Here, come with me.” The prick took hold of his upper arm and Hajime struggled to not fall on his face and lose his too expensive scotch. Unceremoniously he was dragged over to a large table filled with other men, all of which holding a sheet of paper - a list maybe?

Right, the asshole had said that he needed help with a scavenger hunt.

“Hey guys! A stranger! How many points is that one?”

A man with an apathetic stare and short wavy hair spoke up, waving his hand with indifference. “That one is only worth 10 points. Everyone else will have already gotten that one. We gotta get a some people for the big point ones, while someone other's go for as many small points as possible.”

Everyone around the table nodded thoughtfully. The man was still holding onto Hajime's arm, and Hajime noticed and shook the guy off, glaring at him, ready to turn away.

A man with a tan face and apologetic smile stopped him from escaping, “Hey! So thanks for joining us! Sorry about Tooru, he's really pushy. But if you stick with us we promise to let you in on the prize money if we win!” He was short and had a buzz cut underneath the knitted beanie he wore.

Prize money.

That caused him to pause.

He stared around the table before settling on the supposed Tooru.

“How much money?”

Before the friendly tan man could answer a voice rang from behind him “About 8000 dollars? Every team puts 400 dollars towards the cup. It's our year end social for our volleyball league.” the man who spoke shifted his artfully wind swept hair. His grey eyes struggled to focus at the empty pints in front of him.

Tooru kept the smile on his face, letting everyone else talk in his proxy. Hajime glared at him the entire time. The smile was fake and it was plastered on to appease him, and he kind of didn't like him because of the Seattle Starbucks thing.

But a 1000 bucks was 1000 bucks.

Staring at Tooru and taking a sip of his drink, he let the air around them settle in anticipation. “I'm in.” He answered finally, placing his drink on the table.

“Nice! Welcome to team Itsy Bitsy Spikers!” Tooru slapped him on the back, and he yelped at the shock of it. Was he always like this?

“Take a seat, um...”

As Hajime pulled out one of the chairs he flagged down a waiter and asked for another whiskey before turning back to the man with the apathetic stare.

“It's Hajime.” He said.

“Hajime then. I'm Issei. You've met Tooru.” 

Introductions followed after. He tried to memorize them all by their most defining features. One man had very thin eyebrows, almost non-existent. Another had swishy looking hair while another had none. Another man, with a head that reminded him of a vegetable, was talking to another man with a bored looking face and small eyes. He was so busy trying to look for things that were obvious about them all that he had completely missed their names. They all smiled and nodded at him, and he did so back, feeling bad.

Tooru leaned close to him, fake smile in place and eyes heavy lidded, trying to look cute. “Don't worry Hajime, you won't be tested on this later.”

A waiter placed his drink in front of him before walking off. Hajime took a sip of it while keeping a tense watch of Tooru.

“Okay. So what's the plan then?”

Issei handed him a worn piece of paper and pointed at the first of a very long list of tasks and values. In the margin was a note that this was only page 2.

“It's pretty straight forward. This scavenger hunt has about 200 different things you can gather or do in order to gain points.”

Tooru leaned back in and pointed at number 1: Get a stranger to join your team for the entirety of the hunt.

“Like this one for example. Though it's only worth 10 points.”

The rest of the list looked intimidating; two pages double sided complete with ridiculous tasks.

Find three people all born on the same day. Get a coin from another country. Take a shot from a clean tampon. Take selfies with people from 6 different generations. An origami boat folded by a stranger and signed. Get a tattoo from a guy named Johnny in the back of a restaurant. Two strangers kissing. Team members doing something they've never done before. The list went on and on, with increasingly odder tasks. He wracked his brain over which ones were actually doable.

“How the fuck do you expect to do any of these? They're all so specific.”

Issei smiled and took a sip of his own drink. It looked like a cranberry vodka, and Hajime's mouth watered at the prospect of having something other than whiskey.

“We'll find a way. We're splitting up the list. Since you already know Tooru you'll be with him. Here are your tasks. We have until tomorrow night at 8PM.”

“What-”

“I'm looking forward to working with you, Hajime.” The words that oozed out of Tooru's mouth sounded so sleazy that Hajime squirmed in his seat. He tried his best to not stab the guy in the neck with a cocktail sword in retaliation.

It was going to be a long night.

-

They split up outside of Dante's Inferno, everyone in groups of two. Hajime read their list of highlighted items and tried to see which one they should do first. When Tooru leaned over him and hooked his chin over his shoulder Hajime jolted but didn't shake him off, instead he tried to suck down his anger and focus on the list.

“We can do this one.” Tooru pointed out.

Hajime followed the length of Tooru's long, slender finger and saw at the end of it 'two strangers kissing.'

He turned toward him, ready to tell him that since they knew each other's name that they couldn't really be considered strangers now; but as he turned Tooru leaned in and planted a quick peck on his lips. A flash went off about a second later.

Hajime stumbled back and wiped at his mouth furiously. “Idiot! That doesn't even count! We know each other!”

“We'll ask at the end then, just in case.” Tooru wasn't even looking at him; instead he just scrolled through his phone. Hajime assumed to look at the picture of the two of them kissing. He craned his neck to see it; the plain surprise on his  face, and Tooru's smug puckered lips sliding over his.

He started to walk off, face blazing, but stopped and turned towards his new teammate. “You're going to delete that at the end of this.”

Tooru gave him a signature slimy , fake smiles. “Of course!”

-

“Why am I the one getting the tattoo?” Hajime asked uncomfortably.  He straddled a patio chair and tried not to flinch as the needle poked into his skin over and over again.

Through some form of devil’s luck or voodoo black magic, they had stumbled upon a guy named Johnny who could give them a tattoo in the back of a restaurant. He was a skinny red-headed hipster with a beard and thick rimmed glasses and covered in tattoos. Tattoo-artist by day, chef by night and sometimes both at the same time.

Tooru had his camera out, taking plenty of videos and pictures to document the experience. He smiled big and large, and somehow Hajime could tell this one was genuine. “Because you lost the coin toss!”

“Why does it have to be of an origami bird?”

“Because it's neat! Why get something boring, like a quote from Shakespeare?” Tooru grimaced. Hajime liked Shakespeare but didn't mention that.

He sucked in a breath as Johnny's needle went over his shoulder blade. Tooru had insisted on some kind of watercolour tattoo, because it was 'all the rage.' And the bird? Well, because putting a bird on anything instantaneously made it more hipster and pretentious, and when in Rome...

Johnny didn't seem to mind, but Hajime had always thought if he ever did get a tattoo out of his own curiosity it would be of something that held some kind of importance to him. Not because of some coin toss and definitely not with an asshole who didn't know how to queue properly.

“What's next on the list?” He tried to ignore the pain, and instead wanted to focus on more tasks that they could accomplish in the span of a couple of hours.

His teammate put away his phone and then pulled out the paper from his back pocket. It was starting to show wear and tear from being folded so many times. On the creases it looked as if it threatened to tear.

Tooru's eyes scanned the list before it stopped on something he found interesting.

“Oh, how about getting a stranger to tell us a dirty joke? That should be easy!”

The whir of the needle stopped and Johnny started to put away his equipment, but not before taking a picture of the finished product on his phone.

“Okay, you're good to go. Let me just bandage this bad-boy up and you can be on your way.”

He stretched out his back and rolled his shoulders. That was another thing off the list, and it was worth a lot of points too. He wondered what it looked like.

“Here.” Tooru shoved his phone in his face, and the tattoo he saw was his own. It was pretty; an origami bird with it’s wings outstretched, ready to take flight.Pale colours looked as if it was splashed over the paper and of course, on the very tip of the outstretched wing, there was a tiny signed ‘J’. He liked it, and somehow he felt irritated that Tooru was right that it would look fantastic on his tanned skin.

Instead of acknowledging Tooru, he turned to his tattoo artist and nodded at him in gratitude.

“Thanks Johnny. How long should this be wrapped for?”

Said man placed a bandage over it and tape it down. He hummed to himself before rolling away in is computer desk chair and tossed Hajime his shirt from the counter top.

“I would say give it a day or so. If you take it off too soon your shirts might irritate it. And of course don't get it wet for a couple of hours either. Go to this address sometime before you leave to get the proper materials to take care of it. Tell them I sent you and you'll get a discount.” Johnny wrote down something on the back of a business card before giving it to Hajime. He looked at the address before putting it in his back pocket.

“Thanks for everything. I honestly didn't think this one would be possible. You've really helped us out. Here.” Hajime handed Johnny an American Hundred dollar bill but he put his hand out and shook his head.

“Don't worry about it. Thank Tooru, he's helped me out of a couple of binds." Johnny turned towards Tooru, winking. "I owe you one. Tell your guy I said 'hi'” 

“Sure. Yeah. Don't mention it. Really.” Tooru jumped up from his place against a near by wall, suddenly all movement like the place was on fire and he was covered in gasoline. “Thanks Johnny! We'll definitely recommend you to friends when you're no longer an apprentice. Let's go Hajime.” He beckoned to his partner and b-lined to an exit.

So Tooru knew Johnny- but it felt like it wasn't a true friendship built on trust and understanding, it felt more like Tooru only knew him because he had to. And who was Tooru's 'guy?'

Hajime shrugged on his jacket then waved at Johnny as they walked out the back of the restaurant.

“That tattoo looks great on you Hajime. I can't wait for everyone else to see it. Oh man, they are not going to believe this.” Tooru vibrating with excitement again. Something about his eyes said his smile was sincere.

“Yeah, yeah. So stranger and dirty joke?” Brushing off the compliment Hajime tried to force the task at hand, feeling warm and happy.

“Right. Hey! You there!” Tooru ran towards an old man with round spectacles on his face. He grimaced, wondering if Tooru would be told off; this guy looked too scholarly to want to tell a dirty joke - old money and old views on the world tend to not open up that easily.

“Haha! You want a dirty joke? Let me think...”

Tooru had his phone out, and his camera open and video recording.

“Ah! Okay.” The man shook out his shoulders and looked straight in the camera; a questionable smile broke across his face.

“Sex makes your day, but anal sex makes your whole weak!” He shook out his hands, a large open mouth smile on his face. Apparently, he was wrong, and instead of being surprised at the wrinkly old man, Hajime started laughing. They both did. Tooru thanked the man thoroughly for the joke before they started off on their next task, sun only just starting to set.

-

They had accumulated over 200 points by themselves and thanks to his new ink they were in the running for first place. From what Tooru had told him, their other teammates were also doing great. Hajime had forgotten his dislike for Tooru for a couple of hours now, instead they were having fun.

This was the kind of stuff he had been looking forward to when he decided to drive down to LA - adventure.

“We should probably rest for the night, it's almost 4AM.”

What?

He looked at his wristwatch and blinked past the glare of it’s screen. How had he not noticed?

“Come on, I'm staying somewhere close to here.”

-

They had to walk up four flights of stairs in some faded brick building, covered in vines. At first glance Hajime had thought it a little suspicious, and thought that the homes in it would reflect the dirtiness of what it looked like on the outside, but after they had reached their floor and Tooru had unlocked and opened the door where he was staying, he was pleasantly surprised.

It looked to be a bohemian dream. Warm colours everywhere and shag carpet covered nearly every inch of dark wood floors. It smelled like incense and weed, and the curtains looked more like gossamer for all the good they did with keeping the neon lights from the city out.

It was more of an open floor studio than an apartment, and every hippie looking throw pillow seemed to have been artfully placed to make it look like they were thrown about instead.

“You don't live here, right?”

Tooru ignored him in favour of going to the kitchen to rummage around under the sink. When he came back up he was holding a solid sixty of Whiskey by its handle, the bottle dwarfing Tooru's head in comparison.

“Not my house, or my booze, but I _have_ been instructed to use both at my leisure. So drink up!”

Tooru walked past Hajime's dumbstruck self and on to the over sized pillow that was big enough for a king to laze on. He imagined Tooru wearing some kind of Arabian Night's outfit, a harem draped on and around him like an accessory. King-like. High and mighty. Pretentious.

“What're you waiting for? Join me!”

Hajime snapped out of his daydream and walked over to one of the other huge pillows; not so gracefully he sat down, awkwardly sinking into the soft fabric.

“So what's your story?”

“My story?”

Tooru unscrewed the top of the bottle, took a swig, and then handed the bottle over to Hajime, stifling his grimace. He sniffed the bottle, giving an appreciative nod at the spice that hit his nose and took a long sip. Beside him Tooru blanched when the long gulp of fiery whiskey took over his senses.

“My story is nothing. Grew up in Vancouver, went to SFU for Computer Sciences. And now I've got a job in California.” He sought out a place to put the bottle before figuring the best place for it would be on his lap and cradled between his hands.

“That's not nothing! That's amazing! You must be super smart.”

He wasn't, really. He worked extremely hard during high school and university. So much so that he couldn't recall many friends from the past because they came and went so frequently. Now he was starting over, and he would have liked to have said from zero, but he was already there. At zero.

Instead of answering Hajime drank again, face a solemn shadow and mood plummeting.

Tooru went on, undeterred in the least.

“I grew up in Seattle before moving down to Portland myself. Went to school for business, minored in sports sciences. I love volleyball and the colour blue. Long walks on the beach, candlelight dinners, pina coladas, dancing in the rain. All that stuff.”

“Are you giving me your Tinder profile? I don't need to know that much.”

Once again, Tooru had a cheap smile on his face. He swiped the large bottle from Hajime's grasp. Not to be outdone, he bent his head back and took his own long chug. When he stopped to catch his breath he was red in the face; eyes clenched up and leaking.

With a raspy voice he replied to Hajime in a chuckle, “I haven't used Tinder in weeks, please.”

He scoffed at the bubbly man in front of him, laughing quietly at the way Tooru tried to hide his violent cough, face becoming more crimson. Hajime didn't know what the big deal was, whiskey wasn't that bad.

“Whatever,” Hajime redirected “I still have beef with you over your shit from earlier today.”

“Me? What did I do?”

Hajime looked at him, incredulous. “You budged in front of me! Twice!”

“You need to learn to let things go. I thought Canadians were more easy going?”

Maybe it was the fact that it had been a long day. Or maybe it was because Tooru was telling him that their previous encounters were no big deal and Hajime was too much of a nice person to let shit like that slip. Whatever the reason, he found himself launching forward, hands going for the collar of Tooru’s t-shirt. A demonstration that yes, he was dead serious, and no, he would not let it go.

Tooru scrambled backward but couldn't get away in time; the bottle of whiskey tipped dangerously before he righted it in his hand.

“whoa-whoa-whoa! Okay! I'm sorry. I was an asshole.”

The man underneath him didn't try to buck him off, so he stayed there and glowered.

“Why the fuck did you do it the second time then?”

“I couldn't let the opportunity slip by a second time now, could I?” A questionably dirty grin grew on Tooru’s face and ever so slightly he lifted his hips that reminded Hajime of an undulation. Was he flirting?! Hajime could feel his face heat up before he rolled off him, roughly taking the bottle from the other man's hands and stealing another long sip.

“I'm going to sleep. Thank you for letting me crash here.”

He tried his best not to look at him, face still a glowing pink as he inched his way on to an empty pillow. He drank once more in an effort to smother his thoughts.

Things were silent for a few empty moments before a voice broke through, “Okay, g'night.”

Once he heard the other man go into the washroom and close the door with a muted 'click' he moved to the long couch and tried to settle in, the sound of the water running enticing him into a deep sleep.

-

A couple hours later - more, possibly less - he was startled awake by a culinary warzone; pots and pans were banging against each other, and the smell of bacon drifting through the air and into his nose. His head was like a drum, the empty bottle of whiskey cradled to his chest like an important keepsake. The sun was shining through the flimsy curtains, making the spot on which he laid uncomfortably warm.

From what he could hear, Tooru was having a good time making a racket and waking Hajime up. He wanted to die. A splitting headache was starting behind his eyes and travelling to the top of his sweaty head. His throat felt dry and scratchy, like he hadn't had a cool glass of water for years. He groaned in pain, and turned towards the couch cushions in an attempt to get rid of the feeling.

The thought of consuming any kind of food did not seem appealing in the least. “Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey!”

He did not want eggs, nor did he want any bakey. He grumbled and tried to burrow further into the pillow cushions, creating a pretty convincing imitation of an ostrich.

When he still didn't move, he felt the couch shift with the added weight of another person. He slowly poked his head out from its dark, pillowy cave.

Tooru had a bright smile for someone who was awake at - Hajime checked his watch and glared at the hour hand that was firmly settled on the '9.'

“Rise and shine! We have four more things we gotta get for the hunt.”

Last night Hajime was just intoxicated enough to act like a child, agreeing to a scavenger hunt because the eventual outcome involved a prize in the form of $1000. He had just started to think it wasn't worth it.

He contemplated bailing on the entire thing, leaving Tooru and his greasy smile and greasy breakfast behind and continue onto bigger, better, more adult things.

“Take your shirt off, we should see how the tattoo is doing.”

That was right - he had gotten a tattoo. A tattoo because he lost a coin flip. He could have said 'no.' Real adults could say ‘no’. He was never that spontaneous.

With slow movements Hajime took off his shirt, the neck of the tee getting caught on his chin before finally coming off. He turned his back towards Tooru and waited for him to peel off the protective wrap.

He waited some more.

His voice cracked, dry. “You okay back there?”

“Yes! Sorry, yeah, yes; fine. Ahem.”

Hajime winced at the tape peeling off his skin. Behind him, Tooru _hmm-ed_ and _haw-ed_ at the tattoo like it held the secrets to the universe in some archaic language he was trying to decipher.

“What? Does it look okay?”

“It looks great! You should get more. Like sleeves. Full sleeves.”

When Hajime turned around Tooru had a far off look on his face. Electing to ignore it he put his shirt back on and got up from the couch, peering out the window. It was a beautiful day, a cool breeze rustled the trees outside and the skyline of Portland looked welcoming in its splendour. He couldn't wait to explore it some more.

“Ready to get started?”

Tooru was at his shoulder, slightly taller than him, but he didn't feel threatened at how he seemed to crowd him in. He smiled and nodded at him instead, ready to face the day.

-

“I am not ready.”

Hajime delicately held the phone in his hand looking at Tooru on the small screen with a scowl. Why did they have to do the 'running around in a public fountain' one in the middle of the day? And why would Tooru not bring swim shorts if he knew what he was planning to do? His mother told him to be weary of the cops in the States and this was not the best way to stay out of trouble.

Around him, mothers pushing their strollers and old people walking their little yappy dogs gave them odd looks. All said nothing, deciding instead to ignore the happenings of two young men.

With every second passing he would look around for a cop car; a police presence of any kind. There were none, and Tooru kept wading through the fountain, the bottom of his shorts just touching the dirty water and absorbing it.

He hoped it was worth it.

-

As it turned out, with the addition of Hajime's new ink, team Itsy Bitsy Spikers decimated the competition. For the other teams, it was a crushing defeat for everyone involved.

Currently, Tooru was standing precariously on a chair, with a pint of some godforsaken IPA, his hand raised in a toast. Through all the cheering and the music, Hajime stood in the back where he felt the most comfortable. He wasn't used to rambunctious crowds, and the fact that they were all drinking didn't quell his insecurities. He's witnessed enough Canucks games to know how fast a crowds could turn.

And this crowd, with its childlike nature, could cause an uproar with Tooru as it's leader. It would be more than he was willing to deal with.

His best course of action was to simply drink.

So he did.

A lot.

One whiskey turned into two turned into five, turned into double digits. His gullet protested greatly but it didn't matter when everyone was his friend and didn't care that he was awkward. They all loved his tattoo and after a while him and Tooru were chatting like they were the oldest of friends. His vision was fuzzy and his tongue felt like sandpaper but he was happy and no amount of brooding would cause him to forget the night.

-

Without prompting Hajime jolted awake, an awful rubber band around his brain and the desert that was his mouth was unpleasant to say the least. His surroundings told him he was back in the loft that Tooru had been inhabiting. The shower was going so he could assume that his temporary house mate was there. 

God, what did he do last night? Drink himself into a stupor was what. Drinking himself stupid two nights in a row was probably pushing it. Lethargy caused his limbs to feel like tree stumps, every little appendage stiff and board like. With every movement they cracked, popping loudly in the quiet of the morning.

He scratched his belly and tried to get his eyes to adjust to the pinkish light coming through the sheer curtains. There was a whole lot he had to get done today; like leave, but he needed to shake the cobwebs and get rid of the hangover that was cloying his senses - making every noise sound like it was in 7.1 Dolby surround.

The squeak of the shower alerted him that Tooru must have been done with his primping. He turned slightly to peer over the edge of the couch to see the brunette come out with a towel on. His skin was pale and flawless, no sign of any kind of tan line, - Hajime had the tan lines of a farmer because he always forgot to wear sunscreen.

Just as he was about to lay back down on the throw pillow and out of sight, Tooru spotted him. He stilled and tightened his hand around the black towel around his hips.

“You're awake! Perfect! Lets go get breakfast!”

He pulled his gaze away from the fist that gripped the black terry-cloth and up at Tooru. “That's an idea I can get behind.”

When they left, Tooru hiked up a large backpack onto his shoulder; a smile on his face, his hair in place, and a stride that Hajime tried his best to keep pace with. His stomach rolled in unpleasant waves and for the walk he tried his best to keep whatever was in his gut, to stay there.

-

Hajime had only eaten at a Denny's maybe twice in his life? Possibly three different times. His usual hungover self would pick IHOP. He felt that the International House of Pancakes was a less obvious choice for young somethings having a bad morning - Denny's was where everyone went when they felt regret for everything they had done the night before. And now he was one of those people, regretting and wishing he had not walked into the warm embrace of whiskey.

But that's where he was, wincing down into his black coffee while Tooru happily ate his pancakes. He was pretty sure that the man across from him had drank much more, but Hajime was the only one suffering. How could that be possible? That was not fair.

“So you said the other night that you got a job at a start-up company in LA? Why not just fly down?”

When did he tell Tooru that? Taking a long sip of his coffee Hajime tried to fix the words in his head so as not to give Tooru too much of a sob story. Tooru didn't know him and Hajime didn't know Tooru, and he didn't intend to. The last thing he wanted was for some bastards insight into his mind like he was some psych college students guinea pig.

“Thought it would be fun.” He said slowly, cup of coffee still close to his mouth to hide his grimace.

Tooru took another bite of whip cream covered pancake, then chewed thoughtfully. “Hm.”

Hajime tried to stretch out his legs, but his foot kicked Tooru's large hitch-hikers backpack. He quickly looked under the table and glared at the ugly thing before coming back up to look at him. Why did he take that with him to Denny's anyway?

“You planning on going somewhere?”

Another piece of fluffy pancake was making it's way to Tooru's mouth before he stopped. The look on his face was that of confusion. Confusion?

His hand dropped to the table, fork poised at Hajime suspiciously. “You don't remember?”

Remember?

He took another sip of scalding coffee, eyes scanning over the sugar packets, honey, jam, coffee creamer.

“Remember what, exactly?”

“You promised to take me to LA with you.”

The coffee that was making it's way down his throat got caught, burning and hurting, before he started spitting it out. His eyes watered and he hit himself hard on the chest.

What?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” The people around them were giving them side-eyes, watching Hajime almost choke to death. Tooru gave Hajime a big smile, eyes crinkled and teeth shiny and white, not bothering to seem to care that Hajime was red in the face from lack of air.

“Well, we were talking last night, and I mentioned how driving down to LA would seem super lonely by yourself. And you said that I should come with you since I was planning to hitch-hike down anyway. We shook on it and everything!”

The put upon Tooru was trying to look cute, and the last thing he wanted was to scream in this guys face at 9AM on a Sunday at a Denny's in Portland. The hangover headache that he thought he had avoided started almost immediately after Tooru's words. He rubbed at his temples, eyes twitching from lack of sleep and proper hydration, but mostly in irritation at the man sitting across from him.

“What makes you think that anything I say while drunk should be taken to heart?”

“Because I think you called your Mom and she said it was a good idea!”

“My-”

His mother? He called his mother? While intoxicated?

“Oh- my fucking god.”

He leaned back into the leather cushions of the booth and stared at the empty cup that was supposed to hold coffee, his ticket to a better morning. A waitress came by and refilled it without prompting. Almost immediately he took it into his hands and took a large gulp, ignoring the burn.

“Your Mom seems really cool, by the way.”

With a 'clink' he put the coffee cup back down on the table, voice quiet and thoughts racing. “Yeah- she's... she's great.”

Silence came after, Tooru awkwardly shifting in his seat, plate now empty, spotless, no stack of pancakes in sight and no strawberries left. Hajime couldn't understand how someone could eat so much sugary stuff in the morning. Hajime himself was more of an eggs and bacon man. Eggs and bacon made by his mother on Sunday morning brunches more like it.

He brought his hands up to his face and covered it before groaning into them, then put his forehead on the table. The silence went on and from the corner of his eye Hajime could see Tooru's backpack, deep red, large, a sleeping bag rolled up on the top. One converse covered foot tapped nervously against the ugly carpet.

Hajime had a month to get down to LA. If he wanted he could make it down there in two days. But he wanted to explore; to be a young person and experience life, because he hadn't had the chance before. He hadn't done much experiencing for most of his life. He went to school, got good grades, was a dutiful son to his mother, and didn't cause her much trouble. He went to a couple of parties, drank a little when he was too young to, even smoked a cigarette, but that was it. The typical rebelliousness ended there.

He was twenty-five and he hadn't done anything worthwhile in his life besides cross the border into the States. This trip was the story he was going to tell his kids about, the story that he hoped his own kids would want to replicate on their own.

But how was he supposed to experience anything if he couldn't experience it with anybody?

Maybe this was an opportunity. Maybe this was what he needed. Tooru, from the brief few hours that Hajime had known him, was a spontaneous and outgoing person. Not at all like the person Hajime was. Tooru turned a bad situation into a good one and could find the good in the bad. He was charming and handsome and Hajime was the complete opposite. Maybe he was meant to run into Tooru. Maybe he was meant to go into that Starbucks and think he was an asshole; was meant to see him in that bar; was meant to be sitting there, in Denny's, ten seconds away to agreeing to take this tall asshole to LA with him in his '95 Jeep Wrangler.

Slowly, he rose from his position.

“Okay. I'll take you with me.”

-

They were fifteen minutes into the trip when Hajime had started to regret his actions.

Tooru was a fidgety person. Hajime had not known that, but he was realizing that it made sense with everything he knew about Tooru so far.

He was loud, abrasive, always riling Hajime up. It was a wonder how he didn't drive the car into oncoming traffic.

However, after stopping at some random rest stop that smelled like bad eggs and curry, Tooru had gotten a call. The look on Tooru's face when the caller ID flashed said that Hajime probably shouldn't pry. He quickly went to the washroom and tried to figure out what could cause a guy like Tooru to look so forlorn and angry.

As he was walking back to his jeep he heard Tooru, loud and abrasive, on the other side hidden from view.

“Would you stop fucking calling me?! I told you 'no' how many times already? It's not going to happen. Leave me alone.”

For a moment Hajime thought he felt ice run through his veins.

The stranger on the other end of the line said something, their voice quavering with static. He practically screamed his response.

“You call me again and I will fucking kill you, understand?” With a huff Tooru ended the conversation, breathing loudly and grumbling nonsense. There was an energy in the air that reminded Hajime of a bomb going off.

To seem like he had only just gotten back he waited a moment before he made his approach, pretending that he didn't see or hear anything. He leaned against his car, frowning at the patch of dirt; waiting. He didn't want Tooru to know that he had walked into whatever that was.

“Hey you ready to get back on the road?” He said, probably louder then he should have to show Tooru that he was back, and had definitely not heard his threatening phone call.

Tooru didn't answer him, instead went into the washroom while Hajime started the car back up, sweating with nerves.

-

Tooru kept his eyes on his paperback and Hajime kept his eyes on the road. A little while later, they reached Newport. The radio sizzled in mid-region radio limbo from quiet alternative rock to some god awful country song about a truck. Tooru slammed the radio off like it had personally offended him, eyes narrowed. Hajime looked at him with a raised brow.

“Not that big of a fan of country.” He said quietly. Tooru turned back to his novel and frowned at the page, before giving up and looking out the window at the beach - the sea filled with white sails and equally white fluffy clouds.

It was barely past noon, and with them driving into a new city, Hajime thought about stopping. He had a stomach full of coffee and not much else, and a serious need to stretch his legs again. He glanced towards Tooru who held his head up with his hand, looking out at the light that sparkled off the water and brought white flashes over Hajime's eyes, highlighting his companion like some kind of ethereal being.

He averted his eyes back to the road in front of him, and said too loudly, “So did you want to stop here? I heard the sea lions are cool.”

Cool? Like he was some pre-schooler and the flavour of the week was sea lions instead of last weeks horses.

For a moment he thought Tooru didn't hear him, too lost in looking at the boats and the beach and the sea. “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

He tried his best to ignore how the response sounded flat and uninterested and continued driving, foot pressing down harder on the gas pedal like he was racing against something he couldn't name.

-

The air smelled like fish and tasted like salt, which was unsurprising considering that they were literally next to no less than twelve different fisheries. But the prospect of having some kind of lunch was also unappealing considering that every other restaurant they had passed was some clever sea food pun about cod or crab, and the last thing Hajime felt like eating was fish of any kind.

“So these sea lions? Pretty popular right?” He said, trying to get Tooru to talk.

He was starting to realize the error of his ways. Hajime had maybe a couple of good acquaintances; people he saw in passing on the skytrain and had a good conversation with until a destination was reached, or people he said happy birthday to when he received a notification on Facebook. There wasn't much else that he could attest to when it came to hanging out and having fun. Tooru wasn't exactly a friend, but he wasn't planning on driving down the coast with someone he hated, and at the end of the day he could see some form of camaraderie forming.

Tooru had his hands in his pockets, looked around, his interest caught. Hajime felt nervous. He didn't know why he felt the need to stop here - this was a bad idea.

There was five different tour groups when it came to the viewing the sea lions by the docks. Hajime really didn't care if he saw them or not. What he did care about was how quiet and contemplative Tooru had become since he had received that phone call; a steady decline of loud and fidgety movements to stillness. In the beginning he may not have liked the young man but it didn't mean he wanted to sit in tense, awkward silence for the remaining kilometres.

The stop seemed a logical side quest. Get the happy-go-lucky guy to be happy-go-lucky again.

There was a light breeze that held the heat of the summer that made Hajime sweat uncomfortably, his shirt clinging tight to his back.

Tooru looked to be enjoying himself a little more; instead of the stormy look on his face from earlier, there was now a definite glimmer of a true smile - soft and real and it made something in his chest un-clench.

A gust of wind picked up and cooled the dripping sweat on the back of Hajime's neck. He flinched when the salt stung his eyes. He blinked hard trying to erase the damage the salt air had done, and when he looked back up Tooru had moved to the edge of the sea wall.  His head was tilted back eyes closed and a calm expression on his face like he was trying to feel everything the wind had to offer. Hajime cocked his head to the side and tried to decode what Tooru could have been thinking with such a serene expression on his face.

Then it was gone, replaced with a smile that Hajime was used to, familiar with. “Let's get to the docks Hajime!”

Tooru ran towards the dock at a breakneck speed, while Hajime calmly walked. He could already hear the large amount of sea lions barking; their fins slapping against the wet wooden docks below. When he was a child he had gone on a field trip with his elementary school to White Rock beach. He was quite fond of all the penguins, dolphins, seals -  they were all cute and adorable. The sea lions, from what he could remember, looked like huge, terrifying water demon dogs.

Seeing them now, he was greatly aware of how apt that description was. They looked huge and lazy and somehow still hellish and terrifying.

“Holy shit, Hajime, these things are fucking hilarious.” Tooru had his phone out, taking selfies shamelessly. Beaming like he was having the time of his life. Hajime was starting to realize that Tooru could go from zero to hundred real quick.

Other tourists were also taking pictures, laughing loudly and pointing out at the tangled mess of different shades of brown fat. They all kind of looked the same, except for their size, Hajime was sure that he wouldn't be able to tell one apart from another.

The large group moved on, taking more pictures, laughing even louder. Hajime was uninterested in their too loud joy, and kept a good space between himself and their hysteria. Tooru was still taking his pictures, leaning over the railing, too close for comfort, if Hajime had anything to say about it. Tooru slipped but caught himself and Hajime took one panicked step forward, but stopped himself from actually reaching out.

“Stop fucking around!” Tooru didn't seem to listen, instead leaning over the railing again, further this time, taking more pictures.

“Come on, stop it.” He asked one more time, afraid that Tooru would fall. Could he swim?

He turned around to give Hajime a look of disbelief, a wry smile on his face despite his judgement, “You need to light-”

A gust of wind came from the sea, brisk and harsh. Everyone else had moved on, excitedly clapping and pointing out at the lazy sea lions who seemed to scream in happiness at the attention they were getting, loud and deafening. They did not notice Tooru stumble over the edge, his feet slipping on the wet wood, or how, in his flailing, how he had pulled Hajime along with him. Somewhere along the way down he could see Tooru try to throw something but braced himself instead.

The dive in was like a slap in the face. He had been expecting it to be a lot warmer, but instead it was glacier in comparison to walking out in the sun. When they broke the surface there was something akin to a foghorn going off. No wonder no one heard them fall in. Tooru came up, spluttered, and looked around at his surroundings shocked. “Fuck! My phone!” Above them Tooru's phone teetered on the edge of the dock, screen face down and obvious spider web cracks on the front. The salt water from their dive had probably splashed all over it as well. Hajime was glad he had left his in the car.

If he could he would be boiling the water around him with how angry he had become at Tooru, uncaring at all and childish in all the ways that prodded at Hajime the wrong way. “Fuck your phone! I told you to be careful!”

“How is this my fault?”

Incredulously, he splashed at the brunette, teeth clenched instead of his hands, which were too busy treading water to properly make a fist to punch Tooru with. His watch was ruined too. Fuck.

“Because you were fucking horsing around like some kid!”

Behind Tooru, Hajime could see the beady eyes of a large sea lion stare at them; it started to flop its way along the dock, closer to them.

Dread filled his stomach, and even if it was Tooru's fault they had fallen in that didn't mean that he wanted to meet his unfortunate end at the jaws of some fat sea dog.

“Tooru, run- I mean swim!”

He booked it- well, tried to book it as fast as he could in the water; his clothes were waterlogged and slowed him down. He heard splashing behind him and hoped it was Tooru and not the sea lion. This was definitely not how he wanted to go out.

For all his life, Hajime had never known that sea lions could be so horrifying. When he had thought of this trip, he had thought that he would reiterate his adventure to his 2.5 kids, tell them of all the shenanigans that he had gotten into thanks to his travelling companion.

He did not think that it would involve being chased by a sea lion.

He caught sight of a wharf within his flailing. With renewed vigour he shot forward a couple of meters before he caught hold of the slippery wood, pulled himself up, and started to run. He didn't know if the god forsaken creature would continue its pursuit, so without thinking he climbed a fence and into a random yard, trying to catch his breath, coughing up some sea water.

A few second later Tooru seemed to catapult over, before falling flat on his face, breathing hard, hair matted down to his face.

He could not hear the wet flop of the monster chasing them. In fact, all was quiet except for their ragged breathing. Quietly, a gasp of a giggle escaped his mouth, followed by a couple more. He didn't try to stifle it. He couldn't believe it; chased by a sea lion.

He snorted into his hand, laughter choking him.

“Holy shit. Oh my fuck-” He erupted into more laughter, sick with it. Soon enough Tooru joined in, gasping for air just like he was. Their fit lasted what felt like forever; the two of them sprawled out on the dirty ground, making mud. Around them was a shambles of a backyard. Grass growing in indistinct patches, a thick twine connected from the house to a random pole in the ground with clothes on it, a barbecue rusted and out of commission in the far corner, and him and Tooru drenched in seawater and laughing at a pathetic excuse for a near death experience.

Their guffaws quieted down to a few intermittent hiccups of laughter. After they had calmed down they both staggered to their feet. The movement brought to life how gross and disgusting he felt; bits of earth stuck to him and the salt made his skin itch something fierce. He didn't like the idea of walking all the way back to his car soaked to the bone.

Tooru walked towards the clothesline where a few scant pieces of clothing hung. He took them down and started to unbutton his jeans.

Though he didn't try to stop him, he spoke up, “What are you doing?”

“I'll tell you what I'm _not_ doing: walking back to your Jeep in wet jeans.” With his exclamation he tugged down his clinging pants, then his soaked through t-shirt.

Hajime's breath caught in his throat. Tooru's boxer briefs hung to him like a second skin, his pert ass outlined perfectly from the wet fabric and Hajime's mouth went dry - drier than the desert, drier than a raging forest fire, drier than a fine wine.

He slammed his hand against his chest, trying to get his traitorous heart to stop it ridiculous palpitations. Fuck his very sudden, very new arrhythmia. He checked his pockets for something to do, instead of looking at the broad, smooth, taut skin of Tooru's back.

Fuck.

-

They left Newport down half a cell phone but up four new pieces of clothing; not exactly acquired honestly. Hajime wanted to feel guilty about it, but couldn't find it in himself to care. He was too busy contemplating the snoozing man beside him in the passenger seat.

He could admit that Tooru was attractive. His face was... pretty; symmetrical in a way that anyone would find appealing. Which _he_ found appealing.

Christ.

This wasn't exactly... new, but he never really let himself 'explore' so to speak. He had experimented a bit back in first year. Two dates with a two different guys, both of which concluded on a pretty high note of his dick in their mouth, but ended abruptly after that; dropped like a hot potato. No calls, no texts, no nothing. He thought he wasn't really cut out for dating anyone because he was awkward and looked angry all the time, and no one really seemed interested in him to begin with. He let the issue drop because he needed to focus on his academics and the idea of having a significant other, whether they were a man or a woman, seemed like too much responsibility that he was not ready to handle; not ready to disappoint them so thoroughly, so effortlessly, in his attempt to succeed in life.

Hajime could count the amount of people he had been intimate with on one hand. Besides a drunken fumble, two different hookups, and one awkward morning after, he hadn't had anybody, and he was realizing that his life was pretty sad.

Sometime after three hours Tooru woke up, slowly then abrupt, like he had been shot. He gripped the belt like it was trying to choke him and looked around like a caged animal, before quieting down when catching sight of Hajime's bewildered expression.

“Wow, sorry- Jesus my neck hurts.” Holding his neck he rubbed it harshly, eyes closed in concentration.

-

Crater lake was exactly what Hajime expected it to be. A giant crater with water in the middle of it. He would admit that at first glance it was impressive, but that feeling was fleeting, and he felt ashamed for not being happier. Tooru seemed to not get tired of the view. He took as many pictures as he could, with different filters, different angles, all on his busted phone with half of the screen a constant black. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin Tooru's fun time, so he stayed back, and watched. He would rather watch Tooru take pictures anyway, highlighted by the setting sun, smile bright. He hated how he enjoyed the sight of his companion then something amazing like the archaic lake.

After around fifty some odd photos, Tooru was satisfied, they got back in the Jeep and went towards the closest camp ground - but first, an outfitters.

When Hajime started his drive he had expected to sleep in motels and hostels. Camping had not been apart of the plan. Not to say that he hated camping in the first place, he just never had the opportunity to go; no invites of anything had been extended to him. He also didn't like the idea of going at it alone. He turned from looking at the row of lighter fluid; Tooru was happily chatting up the older gruffer looking man at the till, leaning on the counter and talking sports of some sort, politics, whatever that he thought would be considered interesting.

Now he had his chance to actually go camping. With… a friend. Possibly.

He randomly picked up a can of lighter fluid, and at a second glance a s'more making kit that had him scold himself like a child he evidently was.

The sound of his shoes squeaked against the dirty white floor, and Tooru turned to look at him. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Here’s the keys, open up the car for me, would you?”

“Sure!”

He handed the keys off, and watched Tooru go. He should have been more concerned with giving a basic stranger the keys to his car, but didn't. He simply took out his wallet and his credit card, ignoring his panic over not panicking.

The man scanned the few items that Hajime had placed down, then grumbled out a question. His black, cracked fingernails pushing into the machine slowly, eyes squinted to try to see the worn down numbers. “You kids going to Mazama?”

He handed Hajime the machine, practically throwing it at him. He jumped slightly, startled at the man's aggression and held in his fright. He lined up the strip on his card and swiped it as his fingers shook. The machine beeped loudly in the quiet shop. Hajime felt sweat break out on the back of his neck and kept his eyes downcast.

“Um… yes?”

He hoped to hell that this guy wasn't some racist homophobe. Two guys travelling together, and one that had Tooru’s looks? He imagined about three million different scenarios running through his head, but settled on one, replaying it over and over, where he had his head bashed in.

The gruff looking man lightened up and smiled, instead. He had yellowed teeth, one incisor larger than the others and Hajime tried his best not to stare at the tooth or the crooked smile.

“I gotta recommend you wake up early to watch the sunrise tomorrow morning. The crater looks downright gorgeous in the first light!”

The cold sweat seemed to stop in its wake.

That was unexpected.

Nodding at him, he ripped off the receipt before the man could do it for him, grabbed his things and hiked it out of there as fast as he could while still looking like he was walking.

When he came out Tooru was leaning on the hood of the Jeep, back turned to Hajime and ass jutted out and Hajime cursed the gods, the spirits, and anyone that would listen because life was not fair; he never even thought about wanting sex so badly he could taste it but he looked at Tooru and he _did_. He wanted Tooru, and he tried to hold it in like he held in everything else. He didn't want to think about all of this in the small parking lot of a small convenience store.

When he got close enough he could hear Tooru talking on his phone. He could imagine him frowning at the cracked screen like it had insulted him in some capacity before answering it. Every now and again it would cut in and out thanks to the water damage, and Tooru would ask again and again if the person on the other line could repeat what they had said.

“Jesus Christ man, can you learn to take ‘no’ as an answer? Fuck off.” He ended the call and brushed a hand through his hair, getting it caught in the snarls and tugging at the strands.

With great difficulty, he tried to not be worried at the thought of some person trying to force Tooru into something he did not want. Did he let a drug lord tag along on his road trip? Some kind of assassin maybe? Something else that was increasingly unlikely?

“So this camp ground?” He said, to get Tooru's attention.

He jumped around, face pale and phone still clutched in his hand.

“Yes! This camp ground! Friends stayed there. Very nice.”

“Yeah okay, you can stop talking like that.”

“Right! Sorry-sorry.” Hajime was getting used to these smiles that he showed, and in the few rare occurrences where he did see the real ones he resented the fake ones with so much passion he almost wanted to punch the other guy in the face. He was a sham almost ninety percent of the time, but he didn't bother to do anything about it because the other ten percent seemed worth the vexation.

“Just get in the car.”

“Right-o!”

Grumbling to himself over his lot in life Hajime threw his things in the cramped back seat and started up the car, setting off for the camp ground that would house them for the one night.

-

“What the fuck do you mean you don't have another sleeping bag?”

“Well, if I had known that I wouldn't be alone I would have brought two, now wouldn't I?”

“I-”

He spluttered and threw down the tent pole he had in his hand. Tooru had a tent; a small tent. A small tent that could fit maybe one child and a half. Not two full grown men. It was an unexpected turn of events that Hajime had not planned for, especially with the new found knowledge that he wouldn't mind getting to know Tooru in the biblical fashion.

He started walking to his car instead, “Let's go back to that store, they sold tents.”

Behind him Tooru continued connecting the bendy bits together, sliding them through the catches in the tent, efficiently, with practiced ease. Hajime hated him a little for it. “It's 6PM on a Sunday, they're probably closed.”

“We can go and check.”

He stopped his work to turn towards Hajime, eyes narrowed in annoyance; it was probably the first time that he had even seen the other man look even slightly irritated. “Would you chill out? You don't want to sleep in the tent you can sleep in your small car. I hope you like having cramps.”

They stared each other down, not willing to let up. Hajime relented, like he knew he would.

His shoulders slumped, his hands unfurled from the fists that they had formed. “I want you to know I will complain a lot.”

“I figured as much.” The side of Tooru's mouth quirked up in a hint of a smirk. Hajime tried to get the rising heat from showing on his face. There were a lot of things to think about when sleeping in a tent - Like rain, like bear attacks. Like whether or not you're going to end up humping your tent-mate in a fit of restless dreaming.

He definitely did not want that last one to happen.

Begrudgingly, he helped setting up the rest of the tent. When Tooru rolled out his sleeping bag inside it he could feel an awkward and shameful stirring in his gut that he squashed down in an effort to try to be a normal person.

He started on the fire and was about to use the lighter fluid when Tooru lit the end of a crumbled up piece of newspaper with a worn Bic lighter. That in itself wasn't all that unusual, until he pulled out a zip-lock bag with dried bits of weed and rolling paper in it, intending to put the lighter back.

“No way.”

Tooru looked up from his bag and stared at him like it was the most normal thing in the world. Tooru did not look like the type of person to smoke weed like a frat boy. Living in Vancouver he was no stranger to weed. He had tried it more than once, but found that partaking in it he usually had to socialize with the person who had it, and the suppliers were usually so obnoxious he would rather stab himself in the thigh than get his own supply. It was better for everyone involved that he just sit at home like a loser and drink beer while watching hockey; at least he wouldn't end up accidentally punching someone because they thought themselves better than the rest.

“Did you want some?”

He thought about the miles he had driven, the miles he had left to go, the night he had ahead of him, and the fake smiles that Tooru constantly gave him, and nodded. “God yes.”

-

“And then I spiked it in his face.”

Hajime almost doubled over in laughter, his fingers sticky from marshmallows and mouth tacky from the after affects or recreational drug use and how little he had eaten today. His stomach hurt imagining Tooru spiking a volleyball into some stuck up assholes face. He could also imagine how smug Tooru must have looked when it happened, and how he feigned concern when he was put upon again. It was too much, too much to think about, too much to even fathom. He fell off his log, pounding the dirt, tears streaming down his face.

“Wow, this is the hardest someone has ever laughed at that story.”

Settling down, he coughed and tried to regulate his breathing back into some natural pattern. He sat back up on the log and adjusted his sweater he had put on some time ago. “I'm high enough where that story was hilarious, don't flatter yourself.”

Tooru appropriately frowned. The joint held between his thumb and pointer finger left a thin trail of white smoke in the air; it danced around his head before dissipating without a trace. The motion was enchanting, and with some time Hajime started to notice it. Tooru held the joint close, letting the white wisps dance around him like he was an unearthly being. It took a long moment for Hajime to realize he was actually looking the brunette in the face, not the captivating smoke, like he was trying to decipher some kind of great mystery.

If he was being honest with himself, he didn't really mind looking at Tooru's face. And from what he could tell by how piercing his gaze was, Tooru didn't mind looking at Hajime's face either. He didn't understand why, Hajime wasn't anything to write home about. He was average in every meaning of the word. Nothing ever came easy to him, and he tried so hard to be good at anything. What took someone a little effort, took him all of his. He needed to go over everything not once, not twice, but three different times to get anything to stick, and when all was said and done, he still needed to go back and review any and all the material like it was the first time he had looked at it.

He was free of that now, why was he dwelling on it? He had a job, he had a place to live. It was all waiting for him to take hold of. He was living the dream now, technically.

It still felt pretty empty.

The stare was becoming too much; almost as if Tooru was expecting him to do something, wanting something from him. But he was a coward, a child in the dark too afraid to move, and didn't do anything. Tooru seemed to realize this, and sighed, in something that was defeat, and he didn't know of what.

“We should get to bed.”

He didn't argue, instead he got up and crouched down into the tent while Tooru kicked dirt onto their small fire. The sleeping bag lied there like a temptation that Hajime knew he would succumb to, and with jerky movements he dressed down into his boxers. He didn't look at Tooru when he came in to do the same in the small space behind him, even though it was probably too dark to see him do so. 

They tried to get into the sleeping back one at a time, Tooru first, then Hajime. When he saddled up behind Tooru he could feel his heart beat, hyper aware of every rush of blood in his body flowing from his heart to his limbs. It took him around two hours to fall asleep, and when he did, he relented and let his arm drape across Tooru's waist like it belonged there. Tooru, half asleep, held onto Hajime wrist, his fingers over his pulse.

-

He woke up rutting against Tooru, hot and hard and groggy. Coming out of a dream where this exact thing was happening, but with significantly less clothing. They were spooning, and although Tooru was bigger, he was the smaller spoon, and Hajime was pushing his straining erection against the curve of his ass like some bitch in heat.

For a instant he stilled, horror going through him, and jolted to his back like he had been shocked. For Tooru's part he didn't move. They laid in stunned silence, the sound of the woodland creatures the soundtrack to their fallout. He waited for something to happen but nothing did. He knew that the brunette was awake- the way that he held too still to be anything but tightly coiled fear.

“I'm so sorry.” It was the first thing out of his mouth.

Tooru shifted, but didn't move from his position. He turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder, shyness plastered over his features, something Hajime had not seen before. He kept darting away, then quietly spoke. “You didn't have to stop. You can keep going.”

That got Hajime to almost throw up in his mouth.

He didn't say anything. He moved back and settled up behind Tooru, his erection near flaccid, and started to rub himself against the taller man. It didn't take long for him to be back at full force again when Tooru started to move against Hajime, breathing hard. The small confines of the sleeping bag made everything hotter, no space left between them as they pulled and pushed in tandem. He needed to be closer, wanted the clothing between them gone like it had been in his dream.

“Take off my pants.” Tooru whispered, voice lilting and pretty. Hajime obeyed like he had no choice, pulling down the elastic of those twisted black boxer briefs with a vengeance. He wanted to pull his underwear off too, wanted to know how it would feel to rut in between Tooru's well sculpted thighs until he came.

He didn't have to ask, Tooru reached his hand behind to try and pull off Hajime's boxers, struggling from his position. Hajime took the hint and did the job for him instead; and just like that they were skin on skin. His dick was flush and dripping, and when he put it between Tooru's thighs it felt like heaven had crashed upon him. Then Tooru squeezed and Hajime whimpered. He thrust forward in response, letting their skin slap. Almost out of his selfless instinct and partially out of raw desire he reached forward and gripped Tooru possessively. Hands wet with semen and sweat he pump fast and hard in time with his own thrusts. With a cry and then a whine Tooru came; he let his control slip - every breath was a gasp and a groan. Hajime pushed his forehead onto the back of the brunette's neck and came between his beautiful thighs with a sigh, breathing hard and heart beating rapidly like a caged butterfly.

This changed everything. As soon as it was morning Hajime would drive Tooru to the nearest bus terminal and tell him to take it from there. This was beyond inappropriate, he shouldn't have taken to heart what Tooru had said. He needed to get to LA and Hajime was the best way to do it, but not now.

He kept thinking and panicking and thinking and panicking, then fell asleep. Too tired and too exhausted from the long day to panic any further.

-

There was no sound in the morning that he hated more than the sound of chirping birds, simply because they always woke up before dawn like they were Hajime's own personal alarm clock, like he couldn't do it himself and he needed the help of twelve flying rats to do it instead. He got it, the sun was coming up, they didn't need to scream about it.

But now he was awake, and he wished he wasn't.

No one was beside him.

He didn't have the capacity to speak yet, too bogged down and too bleary from sleep to make sense of his surroundings. The after haze of sleep kept his reactions of last night mellowed; the panic and fear and shame were all boiling under his skin, but refused to surface to full blown feeling until he was more awake or actually had coffee in him.

He thought better like this, more clearly when the feelings were stuck in a fog. His actions became his instincts.

Clothes.

Shoes.

Washroom.

Tooru.

It was still dark out; but he could tell that the sun was due to rise any minute. Tooru was by the Jeep, brushing his teeth in the side view mirror and pulling off a nose strip. The sight of him should have set Hajime on edge, with what happened the night before, but he was still stuck in his fog, uncertain on how to feel past putting one foot in front of the other.

“Hey sleepyhead! Let's get out of here.”

He didn't say anything, just nodded and started to clear up their makeshift camp site like the mechanical robot he was.

-

He probably shouldn't have been driving tired but they were only going to the lake, which was hardly far away.

“Hey, so about last night...?” Tooru started.

Those words were a better wake up call than a cup of coffee or a slap in the face. He was fully alert now, grip tighter on the steering wheel. He felt his back straightening at the mention of their little mistake.

“Don't worry about it. I have no regrets. It was fun.” He spoke quickly, like he was trying to get out as many words as possibly before Hajime slammed on the breaks to end any and all contacts between them. Maybe he could sense his guilt, worry and anxiousness over the entire thing. Maybe he was only making Tooru anxious and worry about it as well.

“We should do it more often.”

“What?” His voice sounded like gravel.

“I mean- It's not going to hurt anyone right? Neither of us are in a relationship and it'll be a fun way to let off steam after hours of driving, right?” The panic that broke through his words were evident, and helped carry along his thoughts.

Hajime neglected to tell Tooru that if he hadn't dismissed the girl he was going to have a date with at Dante's Inferno he very well could have had a girlfriend right now, but he figured he wouldn't bring that up, just in case he sounded like a prick, even though he was sitting next to the fucking cactus in comparison.

He frowned as he pulled into the clearing. A few cars were scattered about as well; other people with the intent to do the same thing they were doing. However, while they were all already enjoying the sunrise, Hajime was quietly destructing from the inside out.

“I don't think it was a good idea. It was… wrong of me, to do that. I'm sorry.”

“Did you not hear what I just said? It’s cool! I want to do it more.”

The beginning dredges of light were coming up over the cusp of the crater, and instead of answering with a witty retort Hajime was silent and watched the sunrise.

He did not want to talk about this.

Tooru frowned, his nose scrunching up in distaste; He settled into his seat, arms crossed, and looked out the window as well, “You can't ignore this, you know.”

For a minute he continued staring, trying to see if everything around him was some elaborate dream that he still hadn't found a way out of yet, but alas, it wasn't. He was sitting in his Jeep with a guy he had frotted against. He wished it was the same scenario of a morning after; he would wake up early and leave discreetly in shame. Now he had to live in the shame with Tooru for however much longer they would be travelling together, the giant elephant another companion he had not expected on this trip.

“I know.”

The sun looked beautiful, cresting over the lip of the lake. It was breathtaking, and Hajime sucked in air through his teeth because he couldn't breath for a moment. The light reflecting off the water was bright, cascading a sheet of pale white over everything, It was blinding but still he was unable to look away. Inch by agonizing inch the sun climbed. He didn't know how long they had been there, pretending that what happened the night before didn't actually happen, but at some point Hajime was able to breath a little easier knowing that the conversation wasn't a fresh, festering open wound.

Once the sun hung above the horizon, Hajime turned the car back on again, and set off for their next destination.

They didn't talk about it again.

-

“So! Where's the next stop going to be?”

Hajime tried to ignore Tooru, and focus on the road ahead of him. There wasn't much traffic, in fact, in the last half an hour he had seen only one car driving in the opposite direction. Apparently, not a lot of people want to drive the 101 in August. He had planned to just kind of stop when he felt like it. There was no plan just the destination.

He glanced at Tooru; his knees bent and heels anchored on the front edge of the seat. He held a small harlequin romance paperback loosely in his hands in front of him. Hajime was never able to read in cars, he always got car sick.

“No idea really, I was only really told to stop in Portland. Everything else is just... whatever, I guess.”

Saying it out loud, he realized how boring it sounded. In this case, being spontaneous wasn't that great, especially if this was supposed to be a once in a lifetime trip. He gripped the steering wheel more tightly and checked his speedometer to make sure he was still within the speed limit, converting the American signs into Canadian in his head for something to focus on instead of--

On either side of them there was a whole bunch of nothing.

“That's so boring. You're not even going to stop at any National Forests?”

He frowned and looked in his rear view mirror, put his left turn signal on, then switched lanes. Why would he want to go some place with trees? Vancouver was considered a rain forest, he grew up only a short drive from Stanley Park for heaven’s sake, why would he want to see more trees?

“Why? It's trees. And we already went to Crater Lake.” He hissed through his teeth, hating himself for bringing up the area where they had almost fucked. He told himself he wouldn't mention any of it, for his own sake and sanity.

“But what about the Redwood National Forest? It's a must see stop for road trippers. Star Wars was filmed there! Endor! You have to stop there. You have never lived until you've been there.” The novel that Tooru had in his hand dropped to the floor, and he scrambled to turn his body toward Hajime, shocked that trees weren't being taken more seriously.

“I live in Vancouver, okay? I've seen trees my whole life, should I thank them for giving me oxygen?”

He _lived_ in Vancouver. He was no longer a resident of Vancouver. He had a home, and a job, but somehow he still felt like a vagabond.

“We're gonna stop there. It's awesome. I mean, I've never been there, but Shigeru, my teammate with the fluffy bangs? He's been with his boyfriend and he said it was magical.”

“Magical?” He checked all three mirrors, one-two-three, one-two-three, kept checking.

“Yes. We're going to stop there.”

And that was that.

-

They, predictably, got lost.

The trees were huge and that was cool and everything but that was decidedly overshadowed by being lost amongst them, and having to stay in a hollowed out redwood.

For a few hours they talked about nothing, dancing around the subject that they both knew Hajime was readily trying his hardest to forget. Hajime leaned everything and nothing at the same time about Tooru. He was an open book, except for how he was written in Latin. The taller male liked volleyball since he was a kid, but didn't understand the concept of hockey, and Hajime trying to explain any rules went completely over his head.

Hajime tried to share a few things about himself as well, in accordance to manners, but since Tooru was both sharing yet refusing to share at the same time, Hajime followed suit. He told him about his school life and how he liked watching X-Files. That was a hobby they shared that kept them occupied for many more hours until they became quiet with fatigue.

They fell asleep leaning against each other.

In the morning they were found by a female park ranger, who looked at them in disbelief. How could two grown men get lost in a National Forest with paths? Not even he knew really, but the answer was probably Tooru. The answer to the incredible things that he had experienced so far were all in part to Tooru.

Wasn't that what he wanted when he agreed to take him along? It wasn't fun to experience it all as it was happening, but somewhere down the line it was all going to be a fond memory to reminisce on. Right now though, as they trailed behind the female park ranger with their head hung low in embarrassment, he decided to punch Tooru in the shoulder, because the fault lied with him in most situations. Tooru, for his part, looked to be five seconds away from complaining before the look Hajime directed at him caused him to stop in his track, retreat, and go back to looking at the ground, but this time rubbing at his now tender shoulder.

Served him right.

-

They stopped in Eureka because they almost hit a clown walking his balloon poodle.

The clown was at fault really. Hajime was trying his best not to hit Tooru upside the head, who had been singing along, loudly, to Taylor Swift's 'Blank Space.' He had been gripping the steering wheel, knuckles turning white with the effort to keep them there, instead of around the other man's neck. It was good thing he was trying to keep his eyes forward, not that it was hard to miss a man in a clown suit.

They stayed like that, staring at each other. It was hard to tell if the clown was shocked or not because of all the face paint he wore, that, and the fact that his face was painted to look like a cat, with whiskers and surprised eyebrows.

“What the fuck did we just walk into?” Tooru gaped.

They both looked around, the people milling about and the amount of instruments they carried like battlements.

“Some kind of festival I guess?”

The sun was bright and beating down on the hood of his Jeep like it had some kind of personal vendetta; predictably the car was sweltering, and after a while the smell of cheap leather and sweat became accustomed to their trip as much as Tooru singing outrageously to any and all pop songs that came on the radio. Of course Hajime was sick of it, of course he wanted to find one of the easily accessible guns in the states and put it in his mouth and pull the trigger.

He didn't though; instead he pulled over, parked the car, and got out, not bothering to wait for his companion.

Now that he was paying attention he could hear the soft melody of some jazz playing in the background, and street vendors selling various items from hot dogs, to flower crowns, to balloon animals.  He glared at the pink balloon poodle that a man was making for a mother and her young daughter, but started to walk towards the music instead. Once he turned around to make sure Tooru was following then he pulled his keys out and pointed the fob over his shoulder to lock the car. The Jeep 'beeped' at him reassuringly before settling into silence.

Beside him Tooru leaned forward, straining to hear the rhythmic tones drifting through the air, “Some kind of music thing. Blues? I definitely hear the sax.”

They walked onto the board walk, and were bombarded with people rushing to and fro. Stalls lined both sides of the makeshift street with a couple of food trucks in between the small canopies. Smells filled the air the same way the music did. To his left there was a pottery tent, displaying a variety of plates, pots, bowls, swirling colours gracing their top coat. To the right was a small shop focused on women accessories, beaded purses and a vibrant array of shawls hanging from the side.

It reminded him of home so much that it caught his breath ever so slightly.

“Oh this is neat! That sign over there says it's an all week thing. We should stay here a night.”

“Yeah, okay.” Because he needed it to feel like home without actually being there.

They started walking, sticking close together. Tooru was taller than him but Hajime was definitely broader, able to power his way through a crowd by sheer force of will and an angry expression plastered on his face to show he meant business. It wasn't like he meant too, but growing up where he did, he knew how to walk through a crowd, saying ‘sorry’ the entire way. Tooru stayed close behind, almost sticking to him like glue, and when he thought that was more than enough, Tooru reached forward and hooked a finger into one of his belt loops. Hajime pretended not to notice, and hoped no one else did either.

They ate fresh made bread, doughnuts, and Tooru bought him a pair of sunglasses with yellow lenses as a joke, but instead of wearing them he put them in his back pocket and patted them like an important keepsake.

Hajime bought a ceramic mug that looked like a cats face, thinking he would send it back to his mother to keep her happy and for her to know that he was still thinking about her.

In the lull of the music the high trill of his ring tone sounded through the stiff material of his jeans pockets. Speak of the devil.

“Hey Mom.”

_“Hey dear, how are things?”_

“Good, good. I'm in Eureka right now. At some kind of Jazz festival. It reminds me of the Sunday Markets in Vancouver.”

_“Where the hell is Eureka?”_

“In California. Whatever. What matters is that I bought you a mug that looked like a cats face because you love shit like that.” He thought of all the miss matched plates and cups that his mother owned. Not because of some desire to be different, but because it was easier, and cheaper, to buy all those things at a thrift store.

There was too many people and too many smells and too much noise. Too much was happening all around him and in the time it took for him to answer his phone Hajime had lost Tooru. The small bag he had that held his mother's new mug was thin and he worried that it would break with the rushing horde.

_“Thank you honey. I can't wait to receive it.”_

“Uh, yeah.” His eyes darted from one stall to another, trying to find Tooru amongst the bustling crowd without becoming a casualty.

_“Meet anyone interesting yet?”_

“Uh, yeah. Lots. Actually started travelling with that guy to LA.”

_“Excuse me?”_

People kept bumping into him, and he hated being jostled, hated how people wouldn't move, how people didn't say 'excuse me' or 'sorry' but he had to expect that, he wasn't exactly in Vancouver anymore.

“Yeah, you know, Tooru? The guy from Portland?”

_“You picked up a stranger? Oh my god, you're going to die. My baby is going to die. Oh my god.”_

“Mom-” An elderly woman slammed her metal cart into his shin, and he swore loudly in the middle of the square. People gave him odd looks, but he didn't care because everyone was rude and he didn't know where Tooru was and his Mom thought he was somehow going to die.

Quickly, he cleared his throat, “He's a friend Mom. He's not going to murder me. Didn't I talk to you about this? I thought I talked to you about this.”

_“This is the first time I'm hearing about it. And Hitch hikers? Not a valid travel companion.”_

“Well, he's not technically a hitch-hiker since he _is_ helping pay for gas...”

Another old lady turned too quickly and ended up smacking him in the arm with her over sized recycling tote bag. It was filled with something big and large enough to surely bruise.

He rubbed at his arm, trying to take away the pain, but it only made itself more pronounced.  _Didn't Tooru say that his mother had thought it a good idea? That we shook on it?_

“Mom, I need to go, alright? I'll call you later.”

 _“Be safe,”_ His mother said, her stern voice causing guilt to stir in Hajime. _“Call me as soon as you can.”_

“Yeah, sure thing Mom.” He made a fist, the plastic handles of the bag scrunching up in his hand. He heard that warning echo in his mind. ‘Be safe.’

The person that needed to be safe was Tooru, because the retribution Hajime was looking forward to was not going to be pretty.

-

Another hour or so and he had made it to the end of the pier, where a small stage had been set up for five old men; it almost seemed they were playing jazz for fun instead of an audience.

Over the course of that hour Hajime had found himself buying a plethora of items. He didn't know why he bought them, but he did. He had to do something to get his mind off of Tooru.

How could he just lie to him like that?

Though, he should have expected that, considering that Tooru was a basic stranger, and no amount of fucking could really make up for a lifetime of knowledge that they didn't have.

Did the other man just enjoy yanking his chain? His entire concept of life seemed to be a lie. Was there truth in anything he did? Or was everything done with an ulterior motive? Hajime didn't know, and he didn't care to know. He was going to find Tooru and he was going to kick the shit out of him.

If he wasn't so enraged he was pretty sure he would be enjoying this random jazz or blue market or whatever it was.

The area behind the stage was still quite open, and people were out there smoking so as not to disturb the crowd. At the very end of the pier, on his phone, was Tooru; pacing like a caged animal and just as furious. He obviously couldn't see Hajime with how enamoured he was with his conversation, but that only allowed Hajime to be able to get close enough to punch him without the other running away.

Fuck Tooru and his attitude. Fuck Tooru and his constant lying face. Fuck Tooru and his inability to leave things alone. Fuck Tooru, in general.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I told you we're over, okay? You stop fucking with them the same way you fucked with me.”

He didn't wait for the man to be done with his phone call. There was no pretenses, no pretending not to hear a conversation he wasn't meant to. He was furious, and he wanted to take it out on someone.

“Tooru!”

For moment he thought the man didn't hear him, too engrossed in his phone call to properly make out who was screaming in rage and who was screaming in delight. When he was in reach, he grabbed at Tooru’s shoulder and spun him around. A look of shock was plastered on his face, the phone still cradled closely to his ear. The man on the other end was shouting obscenities like a second language, but they both ignored it in favour of staring at each other; Hajime in rage and Tooru in fear.

The heat from the rage he felt would keep a small village running for a approximately two years, while Tooru’s fear morphed into a guise of patronization.

“Can I help you with something?”

“You lied to me.”

“Huh?”

“I never called my mother. You and I never made a deal that night. You lied. To my fucking face. Why?”

Tooru didn't answer; instead he put his phone away then rubbed the back of his neck, probably trying to figure out a way out of the situation that he had dug himself into. There was no way that would happen.

“Okay, so...yes. I did that. I'm sorry.”

He did that, like ‘Oh, yeah! That was totally me! Sorry ‘bout that. Could you let it slide this one time?’

Stunned, Hajime shouted. “Oh! So now you feel the need to apologize! It only took two days for the guilt to set in.”

“Yes, yes, I got it, okay? I lied. You could have had peace and quiet this entire time yet you've had me. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience.”

He wasn't sorry at all, and he could tell. Nothing in his body language told him so; he held himself like this new information was just a minor disruption in the grand scheme of things, and in a few hours they would be back on the road like nothing happened.

With a neutral tone, Hajime pinned Tooru with a blank look. “You're a fucking prick.” He turned around and stalked off.

People stayed out of his way. Good. He didn't want to have to say ‘sorry’ to every single person he shoved out of the way. Even the old ladies with battering rams steered clear of him. The crowd parted for him like the red sea, fearful of what might happen if someone tried to stop him.

The only person trying to stop him was Tooru, who, even with his long legs, was struggling to keep up with Hajime’s irate gait.

“Wait!”

He would not wait.

“I’m sorry!”

He would be.

“I'm an asshole!”

He was.

“What do you want me to do?”

With no one stopping and starting in front of them, they had made it back to Hajime’s Jeep with relative ease. The sky was getting darker with an oncoming summer storm. He didn't plan to drive in it.

The entire time he had his mother’s stupid mug in the plastic bag, it swung vigorously with each step. All he wanted to do was smash it on the ground and imagine the cute face of the cat was Tooru’s instead. When he clicked the fob to open his car he held the hand in the air for a moment before turning towards the taller man. “We will stay here for a night. In the morning I leave without you.” There was no room for argument.

-

The motel they got was full of other people there for the festival. The atmosphere was upbeat, and Hajime hated it. He was so infuriated that the front desk clerk gave him a wide berth and only said the most minimal of instructions on how to fill out the paperwork and which room they were in. Tooru lagged behind, in obvious discomfort.

Luckily enough, they had nabbed a bottom floor room, the Jeep a stall over. For a moment he wondered what would happen if he just booked it, leaving Tooru to foot the bill and in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

It would be a bitter sort of revenge, but not something that Hajime would ever actually do. He was too nice.

The motel that they chose was old. Old enough that the key card system had not been implemented yet and Hajime had to open the rusted lock with an equally rusted key. When they walked in it felt like he was hit in the face with the smell of mothballs and bleach. Not an entirely unpleasant smell, but still troublesome none the less.

“So.”

Tooru stood in the doorway, unsure of himself.

Hajime went about taking off his jacket and looking through his phone, like he actually had other people to contact besides his own mother.

“I just wanted to say… these last few days. They've been more fun and exciting than anything I've ever experienced. I know I lied, but this trip was-” He seemed to catch himself, rubbing his arm nervously. “Well. I'm sorry. Really.”

“Whatever.”

“No, not whatever! This is- It’s important that you know what you did for me. How you helped me.”

He pretended not to listen. He played candy-crush on his phone.

“Look at me!”

“Why!?” He threw back, fed up, still angry, still seething. He didn't like dishonesty. 

But Tooru didn't say anything. He had Hajime’s attention now, but didn't know what to do with it. Hajime thought he would have resisted more as well but, as is all things, he gave in to Tooru, not even really knowing why this one human being made him do so, so often.

It wasn't like he was the most charismatic person in the world, and it wasn't like every other word out of his mouth sounded condescending, but still Hajime found him endearing. Enough so that all the rage fuelled decisions he had only made an hour before were starting to come into hindsight.

He couldn't just leave him in Eureka. At least a bus terminal. Did he have enough money to get to where he was going? Did he have friends to stay with?

He hated himself.

Tooru walked towards him, up into his face and held onto his shoulders, then one hands slowly travelled to the back of Hajime's neck.

“This means the world to me, Hajime. Truly.”

Then he started to lean in.

-

There was a blooming bruise on his forehead where Hajime had head butt Tooru. In retrospect, it seemed like an overreaction to do such a thing when someone was trying to kiss you; but when it was happening the flair of panic that went through him seemed all encompassing and had made sense at the time.

Now Tooru was at a bar a block down the street while Hajime was stuck in the room with the shag carpet and weird smelling blankets.

He felt pathetic. So god damn pathetic.

A buzzing interrupted his thoughts. It was loud and insistent, and all he wanted was quiet with the headache that was forming. On the other bed where Tooru had thrown his jacket in a fit of frustration there was a light. He had forgotten his busted cell phone.

He was fed up; he was done. He bolted from his seat and rummaged through the thin jacket for the god damn device.

The number calling wasn't assigned, and when the buzzing stopped Hajime saw that not only had he missed the call, there were twelve more missed calls that Tooru had neglected to pick up.

The number called again.

He answered.

“What the fuck do you want you fuck face?!”

_“Excuse me?”_

“You've been calling Tooru a hundred times a day and I'm fucking sick of it. Go fuck yourself.”

There was silence, and the only thing he could focus on was his heavy breathing.

_“Where the fuck is Tooru? Who the fuck are you? I'll slit your goddamn throat if you’ve done anything to him. Where is he?!”_

“None of your goddamn business asshole.” Before his courage could disappear he ended the call and turned off the phone, throwing it onto the bed because he was still too goddamn considerate to actually throw it against the wall. It bounced a couple of feet in the air before landing softly on the ugly comforter, cracked screen mocking him.

-

Three hours later Tooru came back. Hajime tried not to look at him from where he sat on the edge of the bed.

He smelled like smoke and liquor but without the distinct wobble of someone with unsteady legs.

Hajime was still up, watching the one Televangelist channel that didn't constantly cut in and out without prompting. They kept talking about planting seeds and how their faith would guide them to do the right thing. Hajime didn't know what the right thing was. He felt like he was stuck in this weird limbo where both he and Tooru wanted to be closer without actually being closer. He was big enough to admit that Tooru was interesting, and had an unspeakable magnetism that Hajime was drawn to. Maybe that was why he was so pissed that he was still so closed off.

And don't get him started on the whole ‘faith’ business.

“Aw, wait up for me? How sweet.”

He stayed seated on the edge of the bed, hands clenching where they laid on his knees. Tooru went around the room, throwing off his shirt with a distinct swagger. He didn't know if Tooru was trying to show how little their argument earlier affected him, or if the show was genuine and he actually didn't care.

He was already swirling around in a toxic vapour of rage, but to see Tooru so nonchalant about lying to him made Hajime twitch. His muscles told him to move, to get out that rage. He had about 25 years worth of build up that he needed to get out, and if things kept going the way they were, Tooru’s flippant attitude may just be the straw that broke the camel's back.

“You could have just asked, you know.”

“Hm?”

He fully turned towards where Tooru was, stripping down to his boxers and ready to get into bed.

“You could have asked for a ride and I probably would have let you come along. I'm too fucking nice.”

“Can’t say _no_ to a pretty face?”

“Can’t say _no,_ period.”

“Well.” He seemed to have thought better of going to bed, and started to walk towards their grimy washroom. He looked over his shoulder, a flirtatious smile on his face. “It wouldn't have been as fun though.”

Something broke, and Hajime stomped over. He crowded Tooru up against the sink, hands on either sides of his hips to keep him locked in. He may have been shorter than him but Tooru still looked shocked, maybe even frightened. ‘ _Good,'_  he thought. Let him be scared, because Hajime wanted his payback.

“You think this is funny? Dragging me around to do stupid shit because it’ll, what? Rile me up?” Their faces were close and in the shitty lighting of the bathroom Hajime could notice the dark circles underneath Tooru’s eyes and how his irises had an inkling of green at the outer edges. They were pretty and he was pissed and he wanted to do something stupid despite the lack of alcohol in his system. He wished he had alcohol in his system so he could blame all his stupid decisions on it.

“Well, have I riled you up?”

Instead of answering Hajime moved the scant few centimeters between them and planted his lips on Tooru’s.

It wasn't like the joke Tooru was playing when they were a part of the scavenger hunt. This was serious.

The only place they were touching was their lips. Hajime was too afraid that any other contact might ruin the spell. Tooru was intoxicating, the way his tongue darted out shyly to lick the seam of Hajime’s mouth. It was an odd gesture, considering how confident the other man always seemed to act around him.

Hesitantly, Hajime let his left hand graze the pale thigh, then let it trail up from his leg to his hips, feeling the bone jut out.

Tooru’s arm came up to wrap around Hajime’s neck, pulling him closer and trying to keep himself grounded. Hajime followed suit and wrapped his arms around the slender waist.

Their kisses were wet, becoming wetter with each passing second. The way they seemed to gravitate around each other like colliding planets was impossible to ignore. Tooru lifted his legs to encircle Hajime's hips and locked his feet behind him.  

Hajime took the hint and lifted the taller man on to the bathroom sink. He was heavy, but he was strong and wouldn't have given up the chance to feel Tooru’s straining cock against him, creating a wet spot where it was trapped against the fabric of his underwear.

They didn't part, even as Hajime tried his best to navigate the room with his eyes closed. He wanted to enjoy the feel of Tooru’s lips on his, and how each step seemed to make the other man jump and rub against Hajime. He wanted less clothing as soon as possible; who cared about the scratchy sheets and odd smelling pillows.

They landed, less graceful than Hajime would have liked, but as soon as Tooru was under him he felt like something broke within him. He was lost. He was lost on what to do. He was above Tooru, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Headlights that were blinding and made his breath catch in his throat.

Tooru didn't say anything, but took control. He pushed Hajime up, hands on his shoulders to guide him on the bed so Tooru was the one staring down at Hajime. He felt like a feast, and he hadn't even taken his clothes off yet.

Where as before there was a rush, now everything seemed to slow down. Tooru sat on his pelvis, rubbing himself against the tent in Hajime’s jeans like it was a depraved amusement park ride.

Up there, with a fresh pink on his cheeks, Hajime thought that Tooru looked incredible. His eyes were heavy lidded and his hands were trembling where they braced themselves against Hajime’s chest- nothing had ever seemed so erotic.

Delicately, Tooru took hold of the the shirt underneath his shaky hands, slowly lifting it up, watching Hajime’s face the entire time. The grip he had on the comforter was death-like; he didn't know if he should stay still and let the other man take control of the situation fully, or try to touch him. By god did he want to touch him- all over. Those hip bones, the long neck, the beautiful ‘V’ that disappeared into his boxer-briefs. He had to bite his lip to keep from groaning.

His head got caught for a moment before Tooru grew frustrated and simply ripped it off. As soon as it was gone the taller man descended on his chest, licking and kissing the skin reverently. He was embarrassed by the treatment, but wouldn't say anything because each movement caused Tooru to slide and grind against the trapped erection that Hajime sported.

Eventually, Tooru got to the international border between jean and skin. With haste, he started to unbutton the pants, and the sound of the zipper sliding down its teeth was like a screeching train, and it didn't help that Tooru was pulling it down with _his_ teeth like some goddamn porn star.

He couldn't look, he had to turn away or else he wouldn't last as long as he wanted. Even without looking he could tell that Tooru was smirking; at his reaction or at his own conquest, either way it was almost he was worshipping Hajime’s body the way he slowly pulled the jeans down. At least now they were even.

“Look at me, would you?”

He jolted at Tooru’s voice. His eyes were still shut tight. Talking didn't break the spell and Tooru wasn't laughing at him for his lack of skill, so maybe it was safe to look.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. Tooru was hovering over his crotch, breathing heavy, and Hajime could feel every exhale of breath like a delicate kiss. Twitching and groaning he needed satisfaction, now. Immediately.

“Suck my goddamn cock, stop playing around.”

The big warm brown eyes darkened at Hajime’s harsh voice, but they crinkled in a small laugh. “As you wish.”

With little to no prompting Tooru leaned down and licked a long stripe up Hajime’s cock; through the cotton.

It wasn't enough. He needed more, but he didn't want to say anything still. He sounded weird, stupid in lust and need that wasn't an actual need. He wanted Tooru. He wanted Tooru’s mouth on his cock, and Tooru was still teasing him.

His hands were still gripping the blanket, but this time he refused to look away from Tooru. His eyes were closed, a look of complete devotion on his face as he sucked a large wet spot on the tip of Hajime’s breeches, the trembling in his thighs making his toes curl in an effort to keep still.

_‘Please put my dick in your mouth, for the love of god just suck my dick.’_

“You're so impatient Hajime.”

As far as he knew, he didn't say that out loud, but the way that his own body was coiled tight and the irritated look he was shooting at Tooru, he had probably gotten the hint.

“Oh my god, shut up and suck my dick.”

Though it took a couple more teasing flicks of clothed covered licks, Tooru eventually pulled Hajime’s underwear down. Usually, Hajime would feel embarrassed about being naked in front of another person, not used to casual sex the same way that Tooru seemed to be.

Without adieu, Tooru took Hajime into his mouth. He moaned loudly, then covered his mouth to keep from making any more humiliating noises. They were in a motel, with people who watched Televangelists, and read obligatory bibles that came in the desk drawer.

And here he was getting his dick sucked by some lying douchebag with a pretty face.

The wet heat of Tooru’s mouth was incredible. His pink lips sucked at the tip with a coy look on his face, and whatever he couldn’t fit in his mouth he stroked with his long, talented fingers. He tried his best not to curse, and ended up gargling an amalgamation of words that sounded a lot like _yes_ and _please_ and _more_.

Tooru twisted his wrist on the downward bob, and Hajime couldn't help but put a hand in Tooru’s hair, petting and stroking the soft locks in praise. Tooru picked up speed almost immediately, tonguing the fleshy bridge and moaning before going back down as far as he could.

He tugged Tooru’s hair, and was rewarded with his dick hitting the back of Tooru’s throat.

“Fuck!” He bit his lip and tried to keep down the other words threatening to leap out of his mouth.

Tooru came back up and laughed, a gush of wind hitting the wet tip of his cock and making him shudder. His hand still had a tight grip on the brunet but Tooru gently moved it aside so he could move on top of Hajime.

“Do you want to keep going?” He said, voice hoarse and raspy. He found that incredibly attractive. He did that, he did that because Tooru had almost choked on his dick.

He nodded slowly in affirmation, before he shook his head more vigorously to clear the cobwebs. “Yes.”

“Good.”

The man leaned over where his jeans were discarded, coming back up with his wallet; flourishing a condom and packet of lube. He threw the wallet off to the side, and ripped off the edge of the foil with his teeth.

He didn't like being on the sidelines of this thing, having Tooru take the reins and guide him through their tryst like some expert. Hajime knew what he was doing, it was the concept of knowing what to do with himself. Where did he put his hands? Was that noise normal? Was he sweating too much? Tooru didn't have those resignations. He just did it. While Hajime kept thinking himself in circles.

Not today.

He lifted himself from his lying position, sucking a hickey into the hollow of Tooru’s clavicle like a brand; his hands roamed the other man’s back, softly scratching his nails down it. Tooru arched into the touch as he shakily put the condom on Hajime with a soft gasp.

For some reason Tooru was still in his underwear, and Hajime was having none of it. Tooru lifted himself from his straddling position so Hajime would have an easier time getting the one layer of clothing between them off.

Now they were both gloriously naked.

The extra spit in his mouth had no where to go except down his throat. The audible swallow left him feeling awkward. So much for confidence.

“Here.” Tooru handed Hajime the little silver packet with the lube, an attractive flush covering the entirety of his lithe body.

In the background he could still hear the monotone voice of a pastor telling his congregation how to live their life and how much money to put towards their beliefs. It was an odd soundtrack to their fucking, but Hajime would rather focus on Tooru’s pink chest. He would rather focus on the soft pink nipples and the fluttering of his eyelashes, the thin sheen of sweat on his face and neck.

Slowly he opened the packet and coated his fingers. Tooru sat in his lap, hovering, waiting for Hajime.

He trailed his fingers until he reached Tooru’s puckered hole, circling it until pushing a finger in steadily. Tooru let out a soft exhale, head tilting until it was resting on Hajime’s shoulder, biting his shoulder and worrying the skin between his teeth before he let go and licked and kissed the spot in a form of apology.

Tooru shook in his grasp, and Hajime was slow because he didn't want to hurt the quivering man.

“How-” His voice didn't sound like his own. It was thick and gravelly with arousal. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“How much prep do you need?”

Replying with a gasp, Tooru murmured into the tan skin of Hajime’s shoulder, “Only a little.”

“Okay.”

He started going a little faster, his free hand rubbing and petting every part of Tooru that he could reach. Once the taller man was comfortable with his one finger he pressed in another. The entrance was slick, accepting Hajime’s fingers easily. It was warm and Tooru shuddered, a full body quake that reverberated all the way to Hajime himself.

It felt like his body, his blood, his nerves were singing. He picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of Tooru impatiently, scissoring them to prepare for his thick cock. Tooru must have done this often to not need much prep.

Hajime tried not to think about it.

“I'm okay, I'm okay-”

 _‘Not yet.’_ He thought.

Awkwardly, he stretched a little further, then turned his fingers a certain angle, reaching.

“Fu-fuck!”

He kissed the pale shoulder while he prodded at Tooru’s prostate, shushing and murmuring praises to the skin in between soft kisses.

“Please, please, no more. Let me sit on your cock pleasepleaseplease.”

Holy shit. His face was hotter than a volcano. That could hardly count as dirty talk but Hajime felt like he couldn't breathe with how easily Tooru was able to sprout filth as if it were everyday conversation.

Tooru moved, finally showing his face to Hajime. It was beautiful; the blown pupils and the red lips were a sight to behold. The man shyly took Hajime in, stilling for a moment before reaching behind and grabbing Hajime’s cock and lining himself up.

He held his breath, thinking that Tooru was beautiful in the low lamplight, and with the TV’s glare bathing him in a blue radiance that left Hajime dumbstruck. As the head of his dick breached Tooru’s entrance he sucked in a breath through his teeth, clawing at Tooru’s hips. Above him, the brunet bit his lip hard enough it looked like he would draw blood, and Hajime went from clawing to gasping and moaning as Tooru sunk deeper.

Both of them were shaking like a leaf. The room was a millions degrees, and the heat between them even more so. Without even meaning to, Hajime had brought his hands up to Tooru’s face, holding his head and resting their foreheads together as their ragged breathing mingled. A few more inches and Tooru was fully seated, and Hajime felt like he would die any second.

It was tight. Tighter than Tooru promised that it _wouldn't_ be but they waited; Tooru taking his time to adjust to Hajime’s girth, squirming in his lap with his arms draped over the other’s broad shoulders.

He gritted his teeth, tried not to fuck up into that inviting heat. Tried his best not to just use the other man like a thing, even though he wanted to throw him off and just rutt into him until his orgasm overcame him.

To keep himself from doing so, he patted Tooru’s flushed cheeks, checking him over, “You okay?”

Tooru nodded, breathing still hard and eyes glassy. Then he started to move.

At first it was a slow movement. Tooru lifted himself on his knees and slowly sank back down. Hajime groaned and it sounded animalistic. Then he did it again, and once more Hajime made a noise that sounded inhuman. To occupy his mouth he kissed Tooru, deep and thorough, tongue licking into his mouth and caressing every inch. While Tooru fucked himself Hajime could at least take control up here, and use his own tongue to fuck the inside of the brunet’s mouth.

A soft moan escaped Tooru amid the slick slide of their tangled tongues. Hajime thrust up and the taller man seemed to choke on air.

“Again. Againagainagain.”

He followed orders; thrust up as the other thrust down, then leaned away from Tooru’s tempting mouth to brace himself against the loudly creaking bed. They began a fast pace. The headboard cracked like thunder against the wall, and each hit was followed by a gasping breath from Tooru who struggled to keep his arms around Hajime’s neck.

He could have sworn that there was a loud banging coming from one of the adjacent rooms, but everything was white noise compared to the little hitches in breath Tooru made every time he bottomed out on Hajime’s cock. If he could choose how to die he wanted it to be like this. Tooru riding him for all he was worth, legs shaking with the strain to reach orgasm.

A tingling was starting in his pelvis with each snap of his hips. He wanted them both to come together so he grabbed Tooru’s bouncing cock and stroked it, the leaking tip glistening. At the first touch Tooru shouted, his hands scratching over Hajime’s shoulder blades in an effort to keep himself grounded.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Fuck! Hajime, Hajime pleasepleaseplease I'm so close, so close please.”

He doubled his pace, the sound of their sweat soaked skin slapping against each other, the sound of the bed squeaking in protest, the sound of the headboard snapping against the plaster all coming to a head until Tooru stilled, convulsed, then let out a long drawn out moan.

He tightened around Hajime, and with a few aborted thrusts Hajime felt the prickling sensation take over. It zipped through his body, synapses firing off and reconnecting. It felt like lightning shooting through him as he came.

They fell on top of each other, sticky with sweat and come and Hajime was exhausted. Tooru was still shuddering where he lied on Hajime’s chest, and the smile that he felt inch across his face was nonsensical. He was angry no less than two hours ago. Now he was cuddling with the objection of his irritation.

God, he hated himself.

He stroked Tooru’s sweaty hair, still tingling and in a state of limbo on how any of this was going to play out for the rest of their trip.

But he was too tired to think critically, and he fell asleep to the rain, to the pastor on the TV, and the soft exhale of Tooru’s even sleep.

-

They had merged from the 101 onto the 1, and although it would take even longer to get to San Francisco, Tooru had insisted and like usual, Hajime relented. The silence around them wasn't like before, where he focused on driving and Tooru focused on the fine print in his cracked and beaten romance novel. This silence was tense and coiled tight, waiting to let go and snap. He wanted to ask about the call Tooru had received, ask about the man on the other end that had threatened Hajime's life like it was easy as breathing. But Tooru wouldn't have any of it. He shut down or avoided the topic like he was dancing away from it - nimble and graceful like in most things he did. He wasn't happy with it, and he wanted to push more than anything, but he always held himself back, in fear of the conversation that would end in a confrontation that he was not ready for quite yet.

Highway 1 was right up along the coast, so as the sun started to set along the water it reflected back at them, blinding Hajime. He grabbed the sunglasses that Tooru had bought him, and put them on his face to try to lessen the strain on his eyes.

For some reason Tooru had stopped reading and had started to stare at him like he had grown a second head. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, too aware of those eyes trying to get them to look at the brunet, but in this he would not relent. They were half an hour out from San Francisco, and he would not rise to Tooru's bate like some enraged bull, butting its head against any and all things that flailed in front of it.

Tooru cleared his throat and began in a small voice, “You look good in those glasses,” then fell back into his book, holding it up so it would close off the rest of his face and Hajime wouldn't have the chance to see the blush that was colouring his cheeks. He could see those ears turning a bright pink despite the others best efforts to hide. He couldn't help but smile, the tension seeming to spill away like water over rocks, smoothing it down.

“Tooru.”

The man in shotgun looked at him, face still pink from embarrassment, lip bit between his teeth, and tilted his head in acknowledgment.

“Are you glad you came with me?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation in his voice; no one-two-three second interval of waiting in a suspended air of fear, of waiting for an answer. He spat it out quickly, like he was afraid of waiting, afraid that it would show too much.

Hajime was afraid that he was just trying to humour him; the Canadian kid who had no friends and didn't know how to have fun until he was in his mid-twenties.

“You mean that?”

Turning fully to face him, Tooru leaned forward, studied Hajime like he was a butterfly pinned to a cork board, displayed for all to see and study. He felt raw and open at the look, and he could only see it out of his peripherals, not even looking at his companion full on, panicked of what it might mean and what it might actually do to him.

“Of course I mean it. I mean it more than you know. You-” He went back into his seat, firmly planting a safe distance between them in their already confined space. Quietly, he glanced aside, “You got me out of a pretty bad situation, honestly.”

Something within Hajime shook and rattled around, at the first mention of the thing neither of them were willing to mention. That man that had been calling Tooru was dangerous and for all that it mattered, it really wasn't any of Hajime's business; but he wanted it to be. He wanted to find out what was wrong and who he was and who Tooru was.

Delicately, Hajime pressed on, his foot twitching with the aborted gesture of pressing down harder on the gas, to go faster, to get somewhere more quickly. He had no where to be in a hurry. It was only Tooru and him in his little beat up '95 Jeep Wrangler.  The world outside belonged to someone else, the world inside this metal contraption belonged to them.

“Bad situation?” He prodded.

Tooru was silent for a minute, continuing to look out the window like he had never heard Hajime in the first place.

“There's a lot you don't know about me.” He pointed out. Like Hajime wasn't already severely aware of the situation.

He huffed out in dark amusement, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a wry smile. “I'm aware.”

“And there's a lot I don't know about you.” He continued on with more confidence.

Grimacing, he nodded in affirmation. “Yes.”

Raising an inquiring eyebrow, Tooru gave Hajime a bitter smile. “Maybe we should get to know each other. You ask a question, then I ask a question.”

His hands shook on the steering wheel, and he tightened them to try to get the trembling to stop. His knuckles were white and the leather creaked in his sweaty grasp but they both ignored the way Hajime looked like he was about to keel over.

He waited patiently for Tooru to speak up, and finally turned to see what he was waiting for. A confirmation of their perimeters. “Okay.”

“First question then. Why are you so obsessed on whether or not anything is considered 'childish?'”

He wanted to throw up. Tooru was wasting no time in driving the knife in between his ribs.

With effort he cleared his dry, too dry, throat and shifted awkwardly to get the words to form in his too dry mouth. There were a plethora of things he could say to make it seem like all his playing at being an adult was the result of some kind of inherent nature. But it wasn't.

“My Dad left because of me.”

“What?” Tooru let out on a breath, fingers tightening on his seat belt.

“He left because he didn't want the responsibility of raising a child. I was that child. So he left.” The cracks in the road seemed to double in frequency, snaking along the cement and towards their destination. Before he felt some kind of freedom in driving along the highway, bracketed by the ocean and the forest, now he felt claustrophobic; like everything surrounding him was actually creeping in and waiting to smother him. He blinked a couple of times to make sure he was actually in his car and not some random prison.

“My Mom raised me by herself and I kind of figured out about my Dad so I... tried not to be a burden on her. Tried to be an adult.”

Now he was one and he hated it more than anything.

“And now I can't seem to stop, or turn it off, you know? I keep wishing I had done something more in high school, in University. I was so boring. And now I'm a boring adult who will live a boring life and continue on until my boring death.”

“No, no, no; you're not like that. You're so interesting. I'm sorry, I was being an asshole when I asked, I didn't mean-”

“You didn't mean to open up that particular can of worms, and now you regret the shit out of it, right?” He turned to Tooru, his sunglasses still on and his companion was painted in a sheen of yellow.  “Why don't you offer me the same courtesy, then?”

There was no place to go inside the car, so even though Tooru looked like a trapped animal, he tried his best to sit calmly, his hands in his lap and rubbing his wrists in a nervous tick of a habit. He nodded back at Hajime though, eyes shining with determination.

To try to make the strain lessen, he turned back to the road. His grip had slackened and he thought it was a good thing, or else he wouldn't be able to feel his hands. He began, stalled, then pushed forward.

“Who is it that keeps calling you? The one you keep trying to hide from me.”

Tooru drew back like he had been shot, body wound up and eyes staring straight ahead. He looked like he was having a panic attack, if Hajime wasn't already intimately aware of how they looked like he would have pulled over and tried to diffuse the situation.

“It's an Ex.”

His eyes narrowed, and he tried to put a name to the face and a face to the voice on the other end of the line. “An Ex?”

“An Ex.”

“An ex... what?”

“Boyfriend.”

He swallowed, audibly. “Okay.”

“We met in Seattle and he was... nice? I guess. I don't know if I started dating him to drive my parents mad, but it did anyway. He started getting possessive, and not in the 'I like it when you wear my shirt' kind of way, but in the 'I don't like you hanging out with other people' kind of way.”

It felt like ice water was filling up his lungs, and he coughed and glanced aside to view Tooru through the yellow lenses of his sunglasses. The sun was a fixed point along the water, and the orange and yellow sky cast a pretty hue against Tooru's grim features. Recalling his life didn't seem to make him feel any better with how little they knew of each other, but regardless of how scared he was of how Tooru's story was going to end, he still wanted to hear it.

“In the beginning he was nice, fun. But he wanted to be together all the time, and would say... things that didn't sit right with me. We started fighting and I went to stay with my sister in Portland, to kind of give 'us' some distance. It wasn't enough.”

“Wasn't enough?” He ventured, voice quiet.

“He found me, thought I was fucking someone and broke into my sister's house and trashed it. Slashed her tires and broke all her windows in her car. Kept following her around, following my _nephew_ around.”

“What the fuck.”

Every word Tooru said was laced with sadness, a desperation that leaked through unbidden. He thought that they should have been somewhere else; not in a moving vehicle, because Hajime wanted urgently to reach over and do something stupid and sentimental like hold Tooru's hand.

“I had to leave. I didn't want to subject my family to that. If I wasn't there he didn't have a reason to be near them. He keeps calling me and I keep answering to keep him off _them_ , but he's so persistent and I hate him so much for making me leave my family.”

“Can he find you still?”

He heard more than saw Tooru wipe away the beginning of tears, voice choked and wobbly. Hajime felt embarrassed for him, embarrassed that he couldn't do anything to make it better.

With a sharp intake of breath Tooru started talking again, smile shaky and eyes misting, “That's a question Hajime, you have to wait your turn.”

“Whatever, okay, ask your question.”

“Do you regret having sex with me?”

“No.”

“Then what do you regret?”

“That's a question. It's my turn now. Can your crazy fucking Ex still find you?”

“Yes! He's a cop, okay?”

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Hajime had told a cop to fuck off. He had told an anger fuelled, love scorned cop to go fuck himself.

He was going to die.

Looking indignant, he scowled at the road, so as to keep the look from being directed at Tooru.

“This information would have been good to hear before you forced yourself on this trip with me. If I had known you were being stalked by a cop I would have told you to go fuck yourself.”

No he wouldn't have, he wouldn't have held out as long probably. He would have skipped any and all rest stops and drove in one straight shot, in an attempt to gain as much ground between them and this random Ex boyfriend of a cop as possible. What kind of domestic did Hajime wonder into?

“My turn then. How many people have you been with. Intimately.”

“Fuck you.”

“Answer the question.”

“Four. You now: How many people have you had sex with?”

“Eleven. What-”

“Stop! Okay, I get it. We can stop now okay? I... I don't want to play anymore.” The car became quiet once more, and Hajime drove on, the sun now dipped low enough on the horizon that he could take off his glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think about what it would be like if he was alone; if there was no one to talk to in his passenger seat, who wouldn't sing to awful pop songs and who tried to sing along to classic rock. 

"Will he follow you?" He asked, because he needed to know.

"No."

He wasn't sure he believed him. "Good."

They were silent for a beat. The hum of the Jeep would have been peaceful if Hajime wasn't sorting through all this information in his head. Tooru was a train wreck but so was Hajime in his own way. Maybe this was all supposed to be an journey about themselves. Discovering themselves.

Or it might not be a John Hughes movie.  _'Get your shit together, man.'_

“What's your favourite colour?”

He laughed, somewhat hysterically. They drove past another highway 1 sign, and then another telling them that the Golden Gate was merely five miles away. When they rounded the crest of the mountain Hajime smiled and tried to think of a way to get Tooru to be happy. And not the faux happy he was so fond of displaying.

“Let's get to the closest motel and see about tomorrow morning, okay?”

Tooru nodded and they continued on.

-

They turned in for the night too early, but neither of them said anything, going about their usual nightly routine like it were late enough to actually go to bed. He was thankful for the cover of calm. He didn't know what he would do if they had to stew in their own angst, talking over and over again about his sad, pathetic life, in comparison to Tooru's hostile one.

The motel room they had smelled like bleach, too clean and too dry for anything to really take root in the carpet. Hajime lied on itchy sheets and itchy pillows and tried to fall asleep to the sound of Tooru mumbling to himself. He wanted to be in the same bed so badly but didn't dare move, in case Tooru was still awake and could read his mind, thinking him more pitiful than he already was.

He was pathetic. They had sex and now he was getting attached. It was all about fun, and he was trying to turn it into a relationship that was never going to happen. Hajime was too self conscious and Tooru was too good for him. He wanted too much but got too little in return, and he had to just be happy with whatever outcome came after all was said and done. They would either part as unlikely friends, or forget about each other like you would sweep dirt under the rug. They were a blip in each others radar; insignificant.

Eventually he fell into a restless sleep, dreaming about driving off the overlapping highways over and over again, Tooru laughing as he rode his cock, unaware of their imminent deaths. He woke up in a cold sweat, sheets kicked off sometime in the middle of the night.

There was a need to shake off the dream, like if he didn't do it fast it'll come true.

Water. The water would clear his head. Water would help calm him down, help settle him back into himself. The alarm clock on the side of his bed read 3AM, the colon in between the numbers flashing periodically. His feet felt unsteady on the rough carpet, tickling the skin uncomfortably. On the other bed Tooru slept peacefully, mouth open and lips shining with spit and drool, hair in disarray. Tooru was an ugly sleeper; Hajime felt a small vindictive spike of pleasure run through him at the sight.

 _'Good'_ , someone shouldn't have been beautiful in all things, it was only right that he looked like some kind of limp Muppet while he was sleeping.

Considering that the motel they were staying at was close to the highway he could still hear the sound of cars driving by, horns still honking somewhere in the distance, muffled like they were underwater. With effort he stood and moved to the washroom. When he turned on the light it buzzed to life and he regretted it, his eyes hurt from adjusting so quickly. Keeping his eyes closed to try to get them to get used to the light, he fumbled around for one of the wrapped up plastic cups, found one and ripped the plastic off.

The water was soothing when he drank it, but after a second the aftertaste had him grimacing. Drinking tap water from anywhere else than Vancouver was going to be a nightmare. No glacier water to drink, instead he had to deal with this convoluted crap.

The entire trip had his calm cracking. It wasn't just Tooru; it was the making ridiculous assumptions about his future. What if his new company changed their mind and fired him? What if he no longer had a home to live in? Where would he go, what would he do? Would he be destined to work at a Baskin Robbins serving mango fruit blasts to people until he put a gun in his mouth? Would he even pull the goddamn trigger?

He went back to bed, fearing for whatever the future had to bring.

-

“So these friends of yours. How did you meet, exactly?”

“They used to live in Portland. They were a part of the volleyball association. They're cute.”

Cute, like they were a couple of kittens.

The sun was bright and the air was pleasantly warm. The sudden summer storm from a day ago had left its mark by the few puddles that littered the ground.

Tooru was happily skipping over them. He did everything a lot happier now. He also had not turned on his phone after Hajime’s fit in Eureka. He tried his best not to be too happy about that.

They were supposed to meet Tooru’s friends in some quaint bakery. There was the promise of free coffee and treats that Hajime was far too excited about to be considered normal.

Tooru and him walked close enough that he could feel the heat coming off the playful man in waves. There was a distinct shiver that ran down his spine at the proximity, but he ignored it in favour of taking in the old brick buildings.

The San Francisco air smelled of petrichor, and his plan to avoid the puddles had ended in failure; evident by the fact that he had been walking in soggy socks and shoes for the better part of an hour, and he had no idea if they were any closer to the cafe that Kuroo and Kenma were waiting at.

“How much further?” He asked like a child.

“Almost there.”

‘Almost there’ was another six blocks of walking. They could have gotten on the bus, or the metro, even the old timey cable cars but they were walking. Hajime’s car was back at the motel because Tooru had said that the place was in walking distance. It wasn't in walking distance.

“Do you even know where you're going?” He asked skeptically. It wasn't that he hated the walk, but he hated being lead around by someone who was obvious lost and couldn't admit it.

“Um...vaguely.”

“Vaguely.” He gave Tooru a look.

“Yeah, well, I haven't been to San Francisco before.” He huffed, then pulled out a crumbled piece of paper from his jeans pocket, “I only have the address.”

“Give me that.” He grasped for it. The taller man wouldn’t turn on his broken phone, and Hajime knew why but wouldn’t say anything for fear of a conversation that neither of them were ready for. If he had to use his data he would use his data.

“Okay.” He put the directions in his phone. It was close; another couple of blocks away at most. If he ignored the squelch of his feet the remaining few blocks would probably even be pleasant.

They rounded the corner to see the edge of a sign, shaped to look like a cupcake. The girly words read ‘Wake And Bake.’

With great effort he kept in his snort. “That’s it, right?”

“Yes!”

The smell wafting from the open door was heavenly. The grumble in his stomach told him he should get his ass in gear if he wanted to fill himself with as many sugary confections as possible.

Behind the counter was a short man with cat-like eyes; bored and uninterested. His hair was blond with the exception of the dark black roots that sprouted from the top. He didn't look up from his gameboy even as Tooru excitedly walked up to the counter. It was rude and Hajime was about to say something when the faux blond let out a deep and weary sigh.

“Hello Tooru.”

“Kenma! It’s great to see you again! Where’s Kuroo?”

Banging of pots and pans came from the back room; it preceded the appearance of a towering man with a sleepy look; it matched his exceptional bedhead.

“Tooru! It’s great to see you again! You look positively exhausted; long drive?”

“More like long nights. But what about you? Still need twelve cans of vegan hairspray to try to control your mop of a head?”

These two men spoke to each other like old friends, but the shade they threw at each other left Hajime reeling. He shook his head at their antics and instead bought himself a cookie and a coffee instead.

-

They lived above the bakery, so it always smelled of freshly baked bread.

He felt awkward sitting in Tooru's friends apartment. It was domestic, the walls a shade of yellow that reminded him of sunshine and daisies.

To go along with the decor there was a fresh batch of cookies on the low table in front of him. They looked delicious, smelled sweet and sugary and really, it would be rude to not eat them with Kuroo having worked so hard on them in the first place. Delicately, he reached for one precariously placed on top of the small pile, fingers aware of the heat coming off them. When he picked it up he realized how soft they were as well.

The first bite crumbled in his mouth, bits melting like snow in the spring. The small chocolate chips glided across his tongue, where they dissolved and Hajime thought he had died and gone to heaven. He was so immersed in eating this cookie that he had closed his eyes, embracing the one sense that mattered above all else in that one moment. All the other senses were rendered insignificant when it came to this one, single, uniform cookie.

“Enjoying the cookies?”

His eyes opened, and standing in front of him with an apron on was Kuroo, devilish smile wide and knowing, with a sea foam blue bowl cradled lovingly in his arms, a whisk sticking out of it. Embarrassed at having been caught almost ravishing a single cookie he nodded and stood from his seat on the floral patterned couch, a firm blush set on his cheeks but firmly staring Kuroo in the eyes in challenge.

The smirk on Kuroo's face seemed to grow wider.

“How long have you known that asshole for?”

Hajime quickly finished off the rest of his cookie and mumbled out between bites. “A couple of days. He budged in front of me in a line up for coffee. Twice.”

Kuroo barked out a laugh, “Ha! That sounds like him all right.”

“I want to punch him in the face a lot, he literally drives me nuts.”

“Yeah,” He chuckled, “He does that.”

“Is there a way to stop it?”

“Punch him in the face?”

He looked outside onto the balcony where Kenma and Tooru were chatting, leaning over the railing and throwing bread down below for the birds. The thought of punching Tooru in the face had lessened a great deal over the days.

“Or you could keep fucking him; as long he gets some he usually behaves.”

So eloquently, he let out, “uh.”

“Don't be surprised. I could always tell when Tooru was getting some.”

He didn't want anyone to know he was helping Tooru 'get some,' and he wanted to tell Kuroo to mind his own goddamn business but the face Kuroo wore made him stop.

For all his years, Hajime didn't know how someone could look menacing with batter in a bowl and whisk in his hand. The pink apron he had on was spattered with grease and flour, and it hardly went to his knees, but even with it Kuroo was a menacing figure. He didn't want the heat to be on him anymore, so when he glanced to look outside he saw how Kenma looked put upon by Tooru, wanting to play his game but being harassed by the brunet.

“Why did you and Kenma move to San Fran?”

“So we could get married. Settle down. Duh.”

Graciously, he ignored the ‘duh’ and tried to keep himself calm. “So you've been married for how long now?”

“Almost two years now.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Kuroo went about whipping whatever was in his bowl, and they left it at that. They both stared at Kenma and Tooru out on the balcony. Kuroo’s gaze was loving; a soft thing that made Hajime somewhat uncomfortable to witness. He wondered if, one day, he would look at someone like that. Or better yet, if someone would look at him with that exact same expression.

It was probably a pipe dream.

-

They followed behind Kuroo and Kenma, listened to what they had to say when they pointed at random landmarks, stopped with them to go into different, interesting shops that were run by other kind, liberal people.

Hajime hardly paid attention to any of it, too focused on the way their temporary tour guides held hands the entire time. More than once he found himself staring down at Tooru's pale hand, swaying along with every step. That would be ridiculous. Holding Tooru's hand. He shook the thought from his mind and tried to pay attention to the places Kuroo pointed out; his excitement showing through with how his hand would tighten around Kenma's smaller one. Kenma would always respond with his own tight squeeze.

He kept waiting for someone to come up and tell them how they would go to hell, quoting bible verses like they were insults.

“So, how do you like San Francisco so far?”

They were still walking, but Kuroo had turned his head to ask Hajime, gauging how close Tooru and he were walking. He could probably sense how badly Hajime wanted to hold Tooru's hand. Deliberately, he let the gap between them grow.

“It's great. It's got a lot of history.” Which was the first obscure thing that he could think of to say. Kuroo seemed to realize, his smirk grew wider, then he turned back, started to swing his and Kenma's entwined hands. He knew when he was being mocked.

Tooru walked ahead a little and leaned over, in between their connected hands.

“What what do you guys usually do for fun around here? Beside be sickeningly domestic.”

“Well, you already know that we're part of the neighbourhood volleyball team, and we do volunteering on Sunday's, but other than that we're like any boring married couple.”

“Bullshit.”

“You're right, we play Lazar Tag almost every other day. Kenma is considered a God at the arena.”

“Oh, we should play!”

Hajime could already see the disaster waiting to happen.

-

They spent the evening shooting at children; the arena looked like a crime scene, and he didn't know what was florescent paint and what was blood. Some husky fifteen year old girl had taken the match by storm, single-handedly slaughtering everyone that was participating. She found them beneath her, turning up her nose at Kenma's shocked face.

They drowned their sorrows in shitty craft beer.

-

In the morning, they said goodbye to Kuroo and Kenma. It was far too early for Kenma, the way that he swayed on his feet and continuously rubbed at his eyes, but Kuroo seemed to have been awake for hours now, smelling of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. Tooru gave both of them long drawn out hugs, while Hajime shook their hands, firm and steadfast. Kuroo patted his shoulder and looked over to where Tooru was teasing Kenma about his hair.

In an odd tone, Kuroo leaned down to speak softly, “Hajime, be careful about yourself. I don't want you getting hurt because Tooru was too much of an asshole to realize what he was doing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean-”

Kuroo grimaced at Kenma and Tooru, but dragged Hajime over a couple of paces to speak with him privately.

“About Tooru? He's great, but... fickle. He blames himself for stupid things, and changes his mind at a moments notice.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I see the way you look at him and you're a nice guy. I don't exactly want you to get your hopes up.”

“My hopes, _aren't_ up. We... we're just having fun. Until we go our separate ways.”

“Whatever you say man, but keep what I said in mind.”

-

He did.

He thought about it the last few remaining hours to Los Angeles. With every sign that said they were getting closer, he felt like something was squeezing his heart. Tooru hummed along while he read his novel, feet up on the seat and eyes darting back and forth with speed. At least this time he was taking the time to actually absorb the information instead of skimming it like he had the previous times they were in the car.

Around them cars honked and people screamed from their opened windows. Hajime wasn't all that used to traffic but he knew when he saw a lost cause, so he settled back in his seat and left one hand on the steering wheel as he thought about how the miles between him and LA were drastically shortening by the minute.

It was a scary thing to focus on. In no time at all he would be starting on a new path; one that he had chosen with a great amount of trepidation. He didn't want to continue on. He hoped that his car would suddenly break down and he would be stuck. At least that way he would still have a few more hours to himself and Tooru before he had to officially be an adult.

It felt like he was in purgatory, the way everything around him started to mesh and meld together; everyone suffering and wanting to get somewhere but stuck. He let his eyes wonder and focus on the large tour bus ahead- a crudely drawn picture of a tiger was etched onto the side, Siegfried and Roy wannabe’s painted around the dangerous animals. Their dates and times of their performances were painted on the side, along with where they were performing; he wondered if Circus Circus had really fallen that far in disgrace.

He went to open his mouth to say that, but what actually came out of his mouth was: “Let’s go to Vegas.”

“What?”

What?

“I-I don't know. I still have so much time left until I have to start my job. And we're so close already.”

Folding in on himself, Tooru looked quite hilarious. Someone with long limbs such as himself looked like it he would never be able to fold and twist they way he did, but somehow he did it gracefully.

“Sure. Let’s do it.”

The one hand he had on the wheel felt numb with how hard he was holding the leather. “Really? You don't have to, I know LA is your end goal and we're practically there al-”

“Hajime.” Tooru looked at him, determination plain on his face, then it softened, a small upturn of lips to show a shining smile. “Let’s go to Vegas.”

He nodded. As soon as they were able, Hajime turned off and started their trek to the Sin City.

It took four hours, but it was four hours that he wouldn’t trade for the world.

-

With vigour, Hajime slammed the button that would make the slots roll. He didn't care that the bar on the side of the machine was only for show now, as long as he got three goddamn buffaloes in a row he was good, great, fantastic.

“Ahhhhh. Slots are so _bo-ring_. Let's play some real games, with real stakes Hajime.”

He ignored Tooru, and leaned back in his too small chair, sipping a piña colada the pretty waitress had handed to him. As long as he kept playing, they would keep bringing him drinks. He was more than okay with that.

“Why? The buffalo here are treating me well, why would I want to change that?”

Huffing, the brunette leaned back into his chair with his feet up and resting on the mouth where all the coins were expected to fall out if Tooru was playing, which he was not.

“Vegas isn't just about slots. It's about drinking-”

He lifted his drink, “I have that covered, thanks.” He took a long sip from the skinny straw.

“ _Drinking_ , gambling, and getting high and watching Cirque du Soleil.”

“Where the hell does it say that's what Vegas is about? Who the fuck is telling you these things?”

Buffalo-Buffalo-Buffalo. Another buffalo, and another! Yes!

The top of the machine lit up and screamed at the other slots to tell them all that Hajime was a winner, an automated voice yelling 'buffalo!' while the screech of an eagle followed.

Virtual coins flew up on the screen; it went on for a couple of minutes, and the number of credits kept going up and up. Hajime had put in thirty dollars- a big spender- and had expected to lose it all. He did not expect to win 300 hundred dollars, but would gladly take the gift the gracious buffalo had bestowed upon him.

“Okay, okay. You won. Now it’s my turn to gamble!”

Hajime had only seconds to rip out the voucher before he was unceremoniously dragged away by Tooru.

They ended up at the craps table, and Hajime knew shit all about the game.

“You know how to play?”

“Of course!”

Well, that explained nothing.

A table opened up, and Tooru jumped at the opportunity. The female dealer was slim, and her bust was appropriately busting out of her top; probably a distraction technique.

“Yes, hello! What’s the minimum?”

The dealer and Tooru spoke for a moment, a language that Hajime was not familiar with, but Tooru looked excited so he could only assumed that it was a good sign for things to come. They started the game, and Hajime watched and tried to make sense of it, and he really didn't want to ask the rules, because he felt he would look silly doing so and would rather be confused than look like an idiot.

-

There wasn't much else he could do but sit and wait for lady luck to scatter her magic over Tooru. The brunette had been going for a while, throwing his dice with style and jumping in the air when they landed the way he wanted. As long as he was happy Hajime was happy.

“Hajime.”

“Hm?”

The red dice that sat in Tooru's hand looked harmless, despite all the harm they could have wrought. Expectedly, Tooru waited for him to do something, and like always, he didn't know what. The dice looked so small sitting in Tooru's hand. He looked at the taller male and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Blow on them. For luck.”

Everyone around them was too busy playing their own games to really notice the intimate request. The smirk the man in front of him had was devilish, and made his nerves heighten. However, the other was not anticipating the way Hajime grabbed his wrist and brought the hand closer to his mouth. Looking directly in Tooru's eyes, Hajime blew on the dice. Tooru's fingers twitched at the slight breeze, and his eyes darkened, mouth parting on a breathless exhale.

It was a few seconds before Tooru responded. “Th-thank you.”

He smiled, his hand grazing the goose flesh on the back of Tooru's hand as he moved away.

“No problem.” He was never this bold.

-

Tooru won six thousand dollars.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Hajime had bitten his nails; he was almost down to the quick, having bitten them till they started to bleed at the edges. Two hours, Tooru had lost and won than lost than won his money. They had garnered a small crowd, beautiful drunk people laughing and egging Tooru on, even though the outcome wasn't going to change whether or not he would throw the dice at their loud goading. Every win coincided with the good luck charm of Hajime blowing on the dice, and every time those dice were brought up to his face, and the people around them waited patiently for him to blow, he would feel a terribly swooping in his gut like he was falling too hard and too fast.

It was a joke to everyone else around the table, the way Tooru would hold up his hand excitedly, and the way Hajime would quickly blow them. Nothing like the first time, but it seemed to work none the less. Tooru would throw and he would win.

And they do that a lot.

They walk away winners and Tooru looked at his voucher with an ear splitting smile like he was the king of the world.

Compared to Tooru's win, Hajime's 300 dollar ticket payout seemed woefully inferior.

“So what are you going to do with your winnings?”

“Spend it all.”

They were walking in down the centre of the aisle. New York, New York was a popular casino, and although Hajime had never been to New York in reality, he could assume that there was some truth to how the designer had laid everything out.

For example, how people shoved him when he stopped in the middle of the fake road.

“Don't you fucking dare do that.”

For his part, Tooru looked confused, head tilted in a way that was entirely infuriating to Hajime. “Why? It's my money. I should be able to spend it any way I want.”

“Because it's a lot of money you moron! Don't you want to, I don't know, buy a car? An apartment? Put it towards your retirement?”

“Is that literally all you think about?”

People moved pasted them, ignoring their spat like it was a common occurrence. Despite their lack of wandering eyes he still felt pinned. He was practical in almost everything he did; did that make him a bad person? He just wanted to help Tooru; get him to use the money wisely, do something that would help him later down the line.

He gritted his teeth. “You're right.”

Something in Tooru softened, and the lines of his shoulder dropped slightly at Hajime's admission. “Really?”

“Yes. It's your money. You should spend it the way you want.”

“Than I want to spend it on a ridiculously expensive dinner- On you. Lets go!”

Unceremoniously, he was dragged up the escalator and onto the walkways above the intersection. The rollercoaster flew past overhead, and the deafening screams went unnoticed along with the deafening horns of traffic. The sun was starting to set but still left a heat hot enough to burn. It was getting close to dinner time, and Tooru didn't think about how they lacked any reservations to really be able to get into any expensive restaurant. That didn't seem to stop him.

“Hajime! Give me your phone.”

Instead of waiting for an affirmation, Tooru went for Hajime’s front pocket, groping for his cell with no consequence to how close his hand was to Hajime’s junk. He swatted him off but Tooru already had what he wanted, flourishing it proudly as he went about looking for a high end restaurant through the map feature.

Slowly, Tooru’s face brightened at what he had been looking for. When he turned back to Hajime his warm chocolate eyes pierced him like an arrow hitting it’s target. “Looks like we're going to Paris!”

-

How did he end up in this fancy French restaurant with a bottle of wine that cost more than a flat screen TV?

They were sat at one of the best places in the Eiffel Tower Restaurant by utter luck and quite a bit of flirting on Tooru’s part. The view out the glass was amazing. Across from them was the Bellagio, and the huge water fountain was glowing with different lights. Hajime felt as if he were amongst the stars.

The soft red decor was warm and inviting, if one was born in upper class society.

Uncomfortable and out of place, Hajime tried his best to look at the menu without his eyes from rolling out of his head.

From what he could see around him, the portions were adequately sized, so that wasn't an issue, but the people on the other hand, very much were. They all dressed so up-scale that Hajime felt awkward in his t-shirt and jeans, but Tooru didn't care that they were being given odd looks because of their attire. Tooru never seemed to care what people thought of him.

Hajime wished he could have done the same.

He was so absorbed in the inner machinations of his own mind that when the Tooru spoke up he flinched slightly, coming back down to earth like a meteorite.

“I'll have the foie gras, and another glass of this delicious Pinot Grigio, please.”

Their waiter reminded Hajime of those clean cut military soldiers; the way he held himself and how his perfunctory replies seemed ingrained from many years of being under someone else’s thumb.

“Certainly sir,” The waiter said in a level tone, indicative to the make-believe life Hajime had created in his own head . “And for you, sir?”

Both the waiter and Tooru looked at him expectedly. Nervously he peered back at the menu and the prices. He couldn't exactly choose chicken tenders like a teenager at the Blue’s Club. He was an adult and he didn't want to look cheap, but the idea of Tooru spending so much money on Hajime made him feel greatly uncomfortable, enough to shift in his seat every few seconds.

“Um… the…”

It also didn't help that he hardly passed French to be able to correctly pronounce any of the food items without looking like an idiot.

“He'll have the free range roasted chicken.”

“Excellent choice, sirs.”

Now he felt like an idiot who couldn't even choose his own meal.

He leaned back in his seat and focused on the multitude of lights that scattered the landscape. The fountain of the Bellagio suddenly shot up, and Hajime tried to not want to throw himself out the window in his shame.

The wine glass Tooru held in his hand was delicate, and he held it as such, cradled to sit carefully in his palm. “It’s okay, you know.”

It didn't feel like it was, but he didn't want to ruin the evening for Tooru, so he gulped it down. “Yeah, sure.”

They sat in relative silence. When their food arrived they had barely shared a word between each other. It was probably all Hajime’s fault. The way he was so tightly coiled, how uncomfortable he felt a surrounded by these fake metal beams that were supporting this fake Eiffel Tower. Tooru was at home, spending money like it was his god forsaken right.

His roasted chicken was delicious and between every bite he felt more and more guilty. To deal with the guilt he would take large gulps of his delicious wine to go along with the feelings coiling around in his stomach, in hopes that they would settle if he drank enough to forget them.

It was a depressing thought, one that he hoped would disappear if he consumed the rest of the Pinot Grigio.

-

Caesars Palace was stupidly obnoxious, but the pool party they got into was wild; they were both drunk enough that they didn't think of the dangers of swimming while intoxicated. They also didn't think of the fact that neither of them actually had any bathing suits to swim in. They swam in their boxers, laughing and splashing water at each other that was suspiciously warm.

There was a DJ that stood above the water, the man spinning the disks with a look of intense concentration on his face. He looked like he loved what he did. Hajime wished he had the same face when he looked at a computer screen. They kept drinking and hanging off each other. Then kept drinking. 

They got wasted.

They saw a Cirque show like Tooru had wanted, but Hajime could hardly pay attention to what was happening -   his vision was swimming and Tooru kept whispering into his ear, breath gusting over the sensitive skin.

When the show ended they held onto each other to stay upright. Tooru’s back pocket was filled with bills stuffed into his rugged wallet. They gambled, then won some more money. He didn’t know how Tooru did it but he did.

In the midst of their stumbling Tooru stopped in front of a large fountain in awe of the fine mist that sprayed over them.

“I want to stay there.”

Hajime had been in the middle of getting a brain freeze from the bong-like drinking apparatus he had bought. Half empty. He never knew piña colada's were so good? And who cared that the yardstick looked stupid hanging off him? He was too busy thinking it the greatest invention of all time to notice any of that.

“Hm?”

“There. I want to stay at the Bellagio.”

So they did.

-

The room was luxurious.

They fucked on every available surface.

At first Tooru had been man handling him at the front desk as they doled out bill after bill to pay for the room. Then he full on stroked him through his jeans in the spacious elevator. They kissed and stumbled their way to their room, struggling to fit the keycard into it’s slot, and falling through the door when they finally did.

They stripped in record time, tearing at each other’s clothes until they had full skin contact. Tooru rode him again, a position that Hajime was growing to love; but he wanted more than that. He was drunk enough on liquid courage to lift Tooru and take him against the wall, making sure that he was braced against the vertical surface while gravity helped the taller man fall on Hajime’s dick.

The strain in his arms was intense, but it didn't matter when he had someone like Tooru in his arms.

They almost came, but Hajime had enough sense of self to pull out and stop. Tooru whined, high pitched, and complained, but Hajime kissed the words right out of his mouth and pushed him towards the bed.

It was softer than anything that they had slept on so far, and Tooru was the most delicious part of looking down at it. He was sprawled out, his body flushed red and cock glistening with precome, and he was quivering with arousal. Hajime leaned down and licked a stripe up that beautiful cock and swallowed it down like he knew what he was doing. He didn’t. Tooru still screamed.

It was not slow, when they started back up again. Hajime did what he had wanted to do since that kiss back in Eureka, and slid into him without hesitance. He set a punishing rhythm that had Tooru gripping the headboard and moaning loud enough that, if they had neighbours, they would have surely heard and call the cops, thinking someone was dying. As it was though, his voice echoed from the large room and back into Hajime, making him thrust deeper and faster.

He had a leg hooked over his shoulder and another held in his hand, tight enough to leave a mark. Tooru kept arching off the bed like he was having an outer body experience, but Hajime wasn't there yet.

Quickly he withdrew all the way, then man handled Tooru onto his belly. His ass was on display for him, his hips in the air and Hajime could tell that the other man was drooling into the pillow. Without preamble, he pushed in once more, his body shaking with the impending orgasm.

He grabbed Tooru’s arms and held them, keeping the man aloft and in the position. He wanted to hear the man as he took him from behind, roughly and with confidence.

“Hajime yes yes I’m gonna come please please jesus fuck me fuck me god fuck fuckfuckfuck.”

The man beneath him hiccuped a slew of profanities as he came, hips shaking and drool creating a slow descent out of the corner of his mouth. Hajime pulled out and finished on Tooru’s pale beautiful back. Then he fell on the bed besides Tooru’s shivering form.

The look Tooru was giving him was something akin to happiness, but he didn’t know if that was because of how drunk they were or because of his recent orgasm. Either way, Hajime saw that look and gave it back two fold. They were both sweaty and panting and shaking. 

But Hajime was happy.

-

His head was pounding, and his mouth tasted like ash and dirt. His entire body felt like lead, but in a good way - like he had great sex the night before.

He smiled as he started to wake up, inch by inch. He reached over to the other side of the bed, groping around for the other warm body and found nothing. He turned slightly and frowned. Tooru had fallen asleep with come on his back so it would make sense that he would want to wash it off as soon as possible, though there was no noise of a shower going.

He turned back to the fancy alarm clock. On top of it there was a neatly folded note with his name on it.

When he reached over to take it he noticed that his fingers were shaking and clenched his hand to make the tremors go away. He tried to reach for the note again, and when he opened it up he felt sick.

_Thanks. I can take it from here._

_Love, Tooru_

He wanted to throw up.

-

He tried for one step; for two, three steps. Soon enough he was walking away from the trashed hotel room like it didn't look exactly how he felt; shattered, broken beyond recognition. He didn't know how much he wanted to wake up in the possessive arms of Tooru until he had missed his chance.

This was what Kuroo had warned him about, back in San Fran; about the fickle nature that was a primary aspect of Tooru's personality. He thought he could live with it, with their eventual parting. But not like this. He didn't want it to end like this.

More than anything he was angry, furious at Tooru; he felt humiliated at how he had let these feelings build up, only for them to come crashing down, disappointment clouding up and choking him.

This detour to Vegas had been his idea too, like some love-struck teenager wanting to spend more time with the object of their affection. It was foolish; he had known that, but had done it anyway.

Ridiculously, he thought it was his fault. The thought was fast and fleeting. No; Tooru agreed to go because he had always planned to ditch after he got close enough to LA. Maybe he was never going to LA in the first place. Maybe this was all an elaborate ruse to... what? To pull a quick one on him? To not have to take a sweaty bullet bus down? To fuck himself on Hajime's cock then leave him wanting more? He had no idea what was going on in Tooru's head; he had only shared the barest hints of himself over the course of their trip.

Though Hajime had done the same.

The note Tooru had left was burning a hole in his pocket. He could feel it's weight like it were a lead ball, and not the insignificant scrap it really was.

The desk clerk didn't look at him twice when he stalked out of the elevator. He wanted to leave this place; it now only served as a reminder of Tooru's disappearance. All he could see when he walked across the lobby was how they had both been falling all over each other the night before in their haste to get to the privacy of the elevator. Pawing at each other, kissing, biting, sucking each other. Then the fresh memory of waking up alone, that note staring him in the face like some kind of goddamn viper waiting to strike.

There was only a couple more steps until he would reach the revolving door to lead back out onto the strip, but paused with his hand nearly on the handle. Tooru had already checked them out. He would have talked to the girl at the counter. Maybe asked for directions.

He turned back around and stomped towards the service desk, hands clenched in tight fists in his effort to keep some veneer of calm about him. There was little else he wanted to do than let Tooru go, but he wanted to find him now.  Everything in him told him to let it go, to let Tooru go wherever it was he wanted, but Hajime was pissed; His face glowed; it wasn't only turning red, but fuchsia, burgundy with anger at the thought of all the time they spent, only for this fucking asshole to leave him with a shitty note that didn't explain anything.

So yes, it made sense that the woman at the desk looked a little frightened when he walked up. He pushed it all down, and cleared his throat instead, coughing into his hand to give himself time on how he would ask.

“Could I help you with anything sir?” She asked pleasantly, and not at all with a hand hovering over a panic button under her desk out of sight.

“Yes,” He started stiffly, “I was sharing a room with-” He stopped and felt his brain stutter for an appropriate title to call Tooru, and settled on the first thing he had been, “My friend, and he already checked us out. I was wondering if he had told you where he was headed?”

“Which room were you in?”

“The... top one? The big one? The most expensive one.”

She seemed to get the gist of his rambling, and started typing into a search engine, computer screen turned away from his prying eyes, painted nails flying across the keyboard at top speed.

“Yes, he wanted to know where the closest bus terminal was. Didn't say where he would be going though.”

He knew it; he knew he was only biding his time until he could run as fast away from Hajime, from... _this_ , whatever it was. Whatever it could have been before Tooru had literally ripped it into shreds.

There was a chance that he could catch him if he tried, but something inside him was too afraid to do so. He was too afraid to try. If he put effort towards getting Tooru back and it turned out Tooru had never wanted him in the first place, then what was the point? He would rather save himself the mortifying heartbreak now, instead of ruining himself for later.

He would just have to live with what happened, and learn from his mistakes.

And if there was one mistake that he had made throughout the entire trip, it was meeting Tooru.

-

He made it to the bus terminal too late.

-

Hajime had a decent sized apartment, and it took him almost three days to set up all his furniture without breaking his back. He ate takeout because he hadn't gone shopping yet, and the only cutlery he had was made of plastic. One fork. One spoon. One knife.

They sat, lonely, in his kitchen drawer.

When he did finally go shopping he loaded up on health foods that were too good for him and too expensive. If he was going to live in California he might as well live the lifestyle. He was going to miss instant noodles.

The first day he went into his new job he had been wearing a three piece suit that stifled the life out of him. It took him exactly one minute after walking into the building to realize what an idiot he was. No one else looked anywhere near as dressed up as he was. Even his new boss, who was showing him around, was wearing khaki’s.

The next day, when he laid out his suit, he decided to forgo the entire thing save for the jacket. It didn't choke him as much, and when he looked in the mirror he ran his hands through his hair to get it to spike up a bit, instead of it’s usual unruly disaster.

Though it wasn't a full smile, he definitely felt something like it creep on his face.

-

“Hajime!”

He looked up from where he was typing in code to where his co-worker Suga stood at the door. The large smile he had on his face was infectious, and the beauty mark close to his left eye was noticeable under the harsh lights.

“We were wondering if you wanted to be a part of our team this Friday? We need another player.”

He had been here for a better part of a month now. He had great coworkers, and he enjoyed his job much more than he had originally thought he would. There wasn't a constant need to keep some facade. He felt more relaxed now, even though when he went to bed at night he felt like his empty apartment would swallow him whole.

Suga, who had been one of the first people he had met, was kind and lovable and reminded him of his mother; he didn't tell him that of course.

The man tried to make sure that everyone was doing okay and that they were all eating and showering. His job in HR was not misplaced.

But every Friday him and some of the other guys would leave together; in the beginning Hajime had thought it odd, and after the third time he felt sad at not being included. Now he felt a spark of hope flair low in his stomach at the concept of _hanging out._

“Yeah, sure. What’s the game?”

“Volleyball.”

He felt something shift slightly in his chest, his fingers pausing where they danced across the keyboard.

Delicately, Suga spoke again, as if he noticed the sudden change in Hajime’s demeanor. “Is that okay with you?”

Hajime coughed into his hand and nodded, his voice somewhat strained. “Yeah, it’s great. I'll be happy to help out.”

The man in front of him smiled, but it looked concerned, his eyebrows furrowed at Hajime.

“Wanna grab lunch?” He said, but in it Hajime heard ‘ _are you okay?_ ’

The lines of code in front of him were making progress, and he could continue for another half an hour into his lunch break if he wanted to complete it; one straight shot to the finish line if he so desired.

He rolled his chair back and stood up, stretching his arms above his head, “Sure, let’s go.”

-

They gave him a jersey with the number ‘3’ on it. He couldn't remember the last time he played a sport competitively, but he was excited. Suga had given him the run does of the rules. He wasn't too worried; he just planned to play his best and have fun, and as long as Suga was setting he felt like he couldn't mess up.

The community centre they were in was modern, with high ceilings and bright lights. On the other side of the court the other team was already practicing. A setter flung balls into the air and different team members spiked it over the net. It was a show of strength, but he wasn’t impressed by it.

“Show me what you got everyone!” Suga was standing by the net, a volleyball in his waiting hands; their mismatch of players jogged over and lined up in preparation. Hajime found that he liked spiking; the way it connected with the palm of his hand and left it stinging made him feel elated.

“Right-o, everyone huddle up!”

There were some inspiring words of wisdom from Suga, and then Daichi, the leader of their little band of miscreants. When they broke Hajime stood at the front of the net, middle blocker. Though he was only 5’10 he could at least jump.

He waited impatiently for the referee to blow the whistle, taking his time to gauge the people on the other side of the net. They all looked pretty serious from what he could tell, all of them ready for any type of movement to come their way.

Each face showed an intense single-mindedness that startled even Hajime. That man looked like he was constipated; another looked like he was two seconds away from throwing up. Another man looked as if he was going to explode from how red his face was. The man in front of him looked pale, as if he had seen a ghost.

And Hajime stared back, thinking the same thing.

Tooru didn't look all that different the last time Hajime had saw him.

The whistle went and echoed throughout the gym. The game was on.

-

It was more than the desire to win the game that spurred them on. Each pass and spike resulted in a furious look towards one another. After a while it felt like there were two games being played.

But in the end Hajime’s team won with a three point lead.

Hajime was drenched in sweat, and his thighs were killing him. The stinging in his forearms would probably be there for days, thanks to Tooru’s insane jump serves that bordered on spikes instead of serves. More than once Hajime thought that the ball would take his head clean off, but somehow he managed to get in front of the ball and slow down it’s momentum enough for his other team members to pass it back over.

Whenever he received one particularly brutal serve, he would glance at Tooru on the other end of the court for a moment and smirk in his face.

Now, however, they were lined up, both teams facing each other, the net in between them as they shook hands under it. Hajime was at the end of the line, and when he got to Tooru he held on longer than was necessary, his firm grip pulling the other man up to the netting.

“Meet me in the locker room in ten minutes.” He growled.

He had no idea if Tooru would even do it, but when he walked away he could feel the other man's gaze on the back of his head.

Suga congratulated Hajime on how he played, as did everyone else on their little makeshift team, and Hajime tried to take the feeling of satisfaction in, but he was still too angry at seeing Tooru again for the feeling to really take root.

His mind kept telling him to punch the other guy in the face, and another part of himself want to put his mouth on every inch of his body. Tooru did that. He made him so fucking confused.

The room emptied out, and soon he was the only person left, sweat dried on his skin and body weak from over exertion. He just wanted to know why Tooru left; he just wanted that closure at least.

The door to the changing rooms creaked open, and Hajime held his breath when he saw Tooru walk in. His body language was closed off, afraid. He kept ringing his hands together like he was trying to get them clean.

“I’m sorry.”

He snorted, head shaking at the words. “This is the second time you've said that to me and actually meant it.”

“I do. I do mean it.”

“Didn't say ‘sorry’ in the shitty note you left though.”

He recoiled like he had been slapped. “That- that was a mistake. I thought it was the right thing at the time.”

“A mistake.” He scoffed. “Deciding to take you with me was a mistake. Having sex with you was a mistake. You, leaving me wondering where the fuck you went wasn't _just_ a mistake.”

Tooru looked around, as if he were looking for an escape. He was always doing that; finding alternative routes out of confrontations. He couldn't find one, so he sighed in resignation and sat down on the bench a couple of inches away from Hajime, hands still nervously fiddling with his own fingers.

“I started to… not like, what was happening. To myself.”

He didn't say anything, but kept his head hung to stare at the clean tiled floor.

“In the beginning I was just going to use you to get me away from my Ex, but then I started to… I don't know- develop feelings. Towards you.”

Staring avidly, Hajime tried to keep his hands under control. They wanted to do two things at once; wring Tooru’s neck, and pet him protectively. He was having a difficult time keeping them where they were clenched in his lap.

“So you start to like me and then leave. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yes. No. Ugh, I don't know!” He rubbed at his head vigorously, trying to dispel the thoughts into some semblance of order.

“You were right when you said I was a liar. I pretended I was fine lying to you for a little bit, but then I didn't want to live that lie. So I left because I thought seeing you mad at me again would be the worst thing that I could think of, and I would rather see you happy and content without me to make your life all childish. You had a plan and I was ruining it.”

“You didn’t make my life childish. You made it better.”

And it was true. Since as long as Hajime could remember he was always so concerned with being a grown up. He kept out of trouble and went about his life in a fog of what an adult should be like. He pretended he hated certain things because it was the right thing to do as an adult. His mother needed a man in the house, not a spoiled brat that cried when he knocked all his blocks down. He traded in video games for taxes and adventure for too much responsibility. He didn’t know how to balance any of it, and at first he thought that he was changing when he decided to drive his jeep down instead of taking a plane. It really didn't start to change until Tooru came along. He let loose when he was with Tooru, didn't think too rationally or too critically and with the preconceived notion that ‘fun’ was for kids.

And maybe that was why he was so upset that Tooru had left. He was afraid he would become that boring, one-dimensional person again.

“Tooru.” He exhaled in a rush. “I like you.”

Not ‘love’ because he was still an adult who knew the difference. But the potential was there. The possibility for growth.

“I'm fucking pissed at you but I like you. A lot.”

Tooru looked exuberant. “Yeah?” His eyes were misty with waiting tears, eyes turning pink with the effort to keep the water works at bay.

“I like you a lot too, Hajime.” He choked out. The words sounded wet.

“Good.”

“Good.” Tooru shuddered, voice breaking.

Hajime took hold of the back of Tooru’s head, fingers tangling into the knots and pulled the man down towards him, their mouths sliding against each other like two puzzle pieces fitting into place. Two pieces to complete a whole.

In between their kisses Hajime spoke. “You're a fucking prick but I like you despite that.”

Tooru laughed, and it sounded like bells.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my friends for all the motivation but especially for Meg for staying up with me until late in the evening, patiently listening to me read smut over teamspeak. What a champ.


End file.
